ME²
by Xandra the Blue
Summary: Or Snape, meet Snape. What happneds when our favorite Potions teacher meets the person he could have become? And what secret does the second Severus Snape hide? Thank you for reading.
1. Snape the Tutor

ME²  
  
Or  
  
Snape, meet Snape.  
  
DISCLAIMER! I OWN NOTHING EXCEPT ONE SLYTHERINTH, WHO I USE FOR OTHER THINGS AND POSSIBLY MY SOUL, BUT DON'T COUNT ON IT.  
  
A story about our favourite potions teacher meeting someone else's favourite Auror, Severus Snape. Extremely AU. Post Order of the Phoenix.  
  
Please may I apologise for whatever misdemeanours I may play against the characters. I don't usually do Potter fiction, having moved onto original recently, and this is only to get a plot rat out of my head (like a plot bunny, but more annoying) so I might completely mess it up, or be writing something that is so Cliché that it's annoying, but please consider that I'm now to this, and that it is mostly written from Snape's point of view, Snape fan that I am.  
  
Song which I dedicate this to - Warning signs by Coldplay. Especially later chapters.  
  
People - J K Roling of course, Caraline because she's a bigger Potter fan than me, Tamsin for the same reason as well as she is the only person who I can force this on, every single Snape fan who showed me the way, and of course, our very own Severus Snape. I can't get enough of you baby!  
  
*********  
  
It was the first day back at Hogwarts when it happened. It was during one of the first lessons of the first day, Snape's particular least favourite, one of the first year lessons. Not only did he feel degraded teaching first year potions, but very often the little numbskull's didn't understand the very basic's, making the lesson particularly tedious. This particular class, Slytherin and Gryffindor mixed, was a lot worse than he first hoped. Looking at the class he had hoped, prayed that at least one or two of them, even if they had to be in Gryffindor, could have even the slightest inclination for the Subject, but as Professor Snape often suspected, the devil had farted in his face and nearly every single pupil in his class was another Neville Longbottom.  
  
Or so it seemed for the first half hour. Even this years Slytherin's seemed particularly dense, even though Snape would rather face a blast ended screwit than admit that to anyone. But as various acrid gas clouds started to blow around the room from the first year's Cauldrons, Snape had his mind on other things. Potter. Snape was loathed to say his first name; as to him the use of first names was only for friends and lovers, of which he had neither in his life. Potter would be in his NEWT class this year. Snape couldn't understand how that..... imbecile had managed to get an O (outstanding) grade in his OWL, but suspected it had a lot to do with Dumbledore. Snape couldn't refuse him, but he was prepared to show Potter that although he could skate through life on his scar and his father's reputation, Snape wouldn't allow that to affect his grades. Snape would like him to fail his NEWT's, even if it ruined Snape's reputation, just to spite the boy.  
  
He wouldn't mind doing that to the new Defence against dark arts teacher either. He had only spoken to the man twice, and he already hated him. He was a shy man, not a man that could possibly have faced anything more dangerous than a house elf all of his life, but he had something that Snape lacked. A presence of quiet, calm reserve and a voice that could be heard over a dragon's roar, even when he whispered. He was the type of man who people *liked* even though Snape detested him. His name was Zyriel MacDuff, and in Snape's opinion deserved his stupid name. A stupid name for a stupid person.......  
  
It was as he was musing this when the world decided that it wanted to change things. All of a sudden, just when Snape was least expecting it, everything made of glass shattered. It was the beakers and bottles first, so he though it was just a first year messing around.  
  
HE leapt up from his desk and yelled, 'who did that! Tell me right now or you'll all be in detention until you're just finishing your NEWT's!'  
  
First years panicked, afraid of him, screaming, yelling, shouting, 'It wasn't me sir! I didn't do it!'  
  
Snape grew angrier. Didn't these half-wits know how dangerous this was? Breaking things and......it was at this moment when all the things on the shelf started to blow up, one by one. Things Snape would rather not think about fell to the floor in a shower of broken glass and ancient putrid embalming fluids. He saw many of the female pupils scream in terror as dragon hearts and dead cockroaches fell to the floor, skidding all over the flagstones and lying their, rocking slowly as they were speared by the broken glass.  
  
Snape, seething with unbridled fury shouted, 'Get out! Get out of my classroom! The miscreant responsible for this will pay dearly for this!' That was true. Most of the ingredients, now wasted, were extremely expensive and that person would have to pay to replace them, costing a cute knut to say the least. More like Gorgeous galleons.  
  
It was at this point the window decided to explode, blowing in, breaking into tiny shards under the very pressure, almost liquidising before they hit the ground like small bombs. Snape, now more angry than words could every express screamed, 'GET OUT!'  
  
The class needed no extra encouragement. Half screaming, half running they left, while Snape, reaching for his wand, went to leave himself. Only one pupil had stayed behind. A pretty little Slytherinth girl who had grabbed something around her necklace and had dropped to her knees, whispering something in a different language, something that Snape neither could, nor cared to understand.  
  
He grabbed the small girl by the bandaged wrist and pulling her up shouted, 'Ysabelle Todd, Didn't I tell you to leave the classroom!'  
  
The girl looked up at him with the sort of expression that could only be achieved by someone who knew no fear, or knew all fear. It was questioning confusing, the same expression she would wear if he had asked her to identify the difference between moonflowers and wolfsbane. Then, as if she only suddenly understood what he meant ran out of the classroom, quickly followed by Snape.  
  
As he looked around the class he shouted, 'Well, who did this! Speak up!'  
  
None of the class said anything. They were watching as one of the Gryffindor prefects (Hermione Granger to be precise) ran over to them and shouted, 'Professor Snape.....'  
  
'Granger, I am dealing with this.......'  
  
'No sir, it's happening everywhere, the windows and ceramics are blowing in everywhere sir and Dumbledore said that all the classes have to be taken to the Quidditch pitch sir.'  
  
'But ....'  
  
'The great hall's a disaster zone Professor.' And then, in Hermione Granger's usual manner she shouted, 'First years, please follow me!'  
  
Snape, too wound up to care about Hermione's blatant disregard for his authority, followed the class out. All of them were chatting together, talking and shouting, except one. The little girl who'd stayed behind. She walked about a foot behind them, almost as if she was trying to keep pace with him, every so often looking at him in the most irritating manner, as if she didn't really want to be here. Snape ignored her and as the various classes assembled on the field he began to assess the damage. He hoped dearly that Potter might have a few shards of glass embedded in his fat head, as it might possibly make him less arrogant, but to his serious disappointment Potter seemed alive and well, chatting away to his friends.  
  
'Severus?' he heard. He swished around. It was Dumbledore.  
  
'Yes sir?' he answered.  
  
'Severus, apparently the cause of this disturbance has fallen in the lake and I will need your assistance to help me get it out.' He said coolly.  
  
'If someone's bough something from the Weasly's....' hissed Snape under his breath was he followed a selection of teachers out to the lake.  
  
He was the first to see the thing in the lake, kicking and struggling to breath, shouting something in a language that not one person could understand. As the man shouted and trod the icy waters, the giant squid in the lake came up, and almost swallowed the man, before he grabbed his wand and shouted, 'Diffino!'  
  
The squid was blown back, and this gave the man enough time to hold his wand steady and shouted 'Impedimenta!'  
  
The squid, as if all it's tentacles had suddenly been tied together, fell into the water, emitting a piercing wail. The man, exhausted, tried to swim, but failed miserably.  
  
'Oh Dammit!' exclaimed the new Defence against Dark arts teacher, and throwing off his cloak dived into the water heroically. Snape rolled his eyes. It was all he could do to stop himself from shouting at him about being so bloody heroic.  
  
The new Teacher swam out to the man, and grabbed the man who was practically in a faint. They heard the stranger screaming something in his language, something like, 'myheiri chei heini eav á?' and 'myheui chei heini eri yui?'  
  
'Come on....' Snape heard MacDuff exclaim, 'we're nearly there!'  
  
The man in his arms began to gibber and rant in his own language, unable to comprehend what was going on. As MacDuff, dripping wet, pulled the man onto the bank Dumbledore jumped in front of Snape and asked the man who lay panting and gasping for breath on the bank, 'where are you from?'  
  
Snape heard the gasps and the whispers before he saw the man. He heard McGonagall whisper, 'He looks just like.....' and Professor Flitwick exclaim, 'the spitting image. Even the new teacher, Zyriel MacDuff swallowed as he said, 'haven't seen anything like this since I came to England....'  
  
Snape, unable to bear the suspense pushed pass MacDuff and looking at the man almost swore, and fell back into Dumbledore, unable to control himself.  
  
The man in front of him lye in the ground, choking, coughing and babbling in his own language like a drugged, drowned rat, his long black trench coat and red and green scarf which was absurdly long weighed down with mud and dirty water, boots that had once been brand new were splattered with various substances which no-one wanted to know what they were. This had not shocked him within the first few milli seconds of viewing. What had shocked him was the face.  
  
That face, the face with the hooked nose and black eyes. The face would have been so familiar if it hadn't been for the animalist expression on the face. There was the typical sneer that Snape knew so well on that face, the face the small pallid hue as his own. The face he had seen in the mirror all his life.  
  
'What is your name?' Ordered Dumbledore.  
  
The man stared back into his face, and with Snape voice said, 'I am..Severus....Snape.' He spoke as if he had forgotten the words, and as if the very act of trying to speak brought him pain, panting and gasping for breath between each word. 'Order.....of.......Merlin.....First.....class....'He looked slowly into Snape's face, and letting his face coil into almost the same expression, fainted.  
  
********* 


	2. Snape the Potion's Master

Chapter 2 - Snape the Potions Master.  
  
I'd first of all like to thank everyone who reviewed the first chapter. I should really re-edit it, but I'm glad you liked it. I'm glad that this idea hasn't been overdone yet, and that you'll enjoy my further chapters.  
  
*********  
  
It was much later in the infirmary when Snape and Dumbledore were sitting across the room from the other, the unexplained Snape, when the real, the known Snape allowed himself to say. "Who *is* this man?"  
  
"Apparently you." Answered Dumbledore, "Poppy's just given him a sleeping potion. He won't wake up for a while."  
  
"How dare that man take my name!" exclaimed Snape, in an attempt to avoid the obvious, "how dare he!"  
  
"I have no answer for that, but I have a feeling that this has more to do with it than your name."  
  
"He can't be me." Said Snape, thinking allowed, "There is no way that this man could be me. He was wearing *muggle*" he spat the word like it was poisonous, "clothes over his robes. He can't be me. I'd never do that."  
  
"Severus, I don't think you fully understand the significance of this," said Dumbledore.  
  
"He is an impostor. He is not me." Said Snape.  
  
"I am perfectly aware of that Severus. But that is not the point."  
  
"I think it is. I think it's someone who's disguised themselves as me, and is here, trying to....trying to......" Snape though for a moment, and ran his fingers through his greasy hair, " Dumbledore, he can't be me." Said Snape, allowing his persona of steel break down just for a second, "He just can't be."  
  
"I think, Severus, that you are jumping to conclusions. No one has yet said that he was you, or that you were even related." Answered Dumbledore, "and I find it unlikely that anyone would want to disguise themselves as you, as very few would have anything to gain, especially as you appear to be here, alive and not particularly unwell."  
  
"Potter's behind this...."swore Snape, as he looked as his unconscious self roll over and murmur something in his sleep, "I bet this is what he thinks is a joke."  
  
"Severus, not every misdemeanour in this castle is planned, or is somehow connected with Harry Potter." Sighed Dumbledore.  
  
"Well, what is it!" Snape said, raising his voice, "what is it!"  
  
"I don't know." Said Dumbledore Calmly, "but I think asking him questions would be better than shouting at me, demanding I know the answer."  
  
"Sorry sir." Snarled Snape, his voice quiet, but unnaturally low.  
  
"I think you better go and get some rest," said Dumbledore, patting him like an obedient dog, "do you want to be excused from classes tomorrow Severus?"  
  
"No." answered Snape straight away; "I'll be taking classes tomorrow."  
  
"I though that this might have been a shock for you, you might want to wait with this man."  
  
"Why should I?" hissed Snape, "He's a stranger."  
  
"Well, Shall I send someone to get you when he wakes up tomorrow..."  
  
"No." Snape got up to leave. Just as he was walking through the door he heard Dumbledore say, "don't you want to know why he's here?" Snape stopped dead in the doorway. Dumbledore, knowing that he had got his attention said, "I think we'll need you their with some Veritaserum when he wakes up."  
  
"Well, yes. I shall come if you send a runner. On a strictly professional level."  
  
"Of course, strictly professional. You wouldn't want people thinking you were curious about someone who looks just like you and appeared out of no- where. Professional. Of course."  
  
"Of course," Snape repeated. He left, feeling that he had just been mocked. As he walked down the corridors and back to his office, he suddenly realised how. Muttering to himself and storming back to his office under a dark cloud he slammed the door, rocking the foundations of the dungeons, and when he realised he was all alone, far away from the eyes and ears of everyone at Hogwarts, he screamed. Just a short scream, but it was heart felt and long needed. He knew no one would hear it because the dungeon was practically soundproof and no one, no one for many years had ever come down to this dungeon.  
  
Snape had often pondered why the feeling of loneliness bothered him occasionally. It rarely did, but when it did, it bothered him a lot. Snape knew two things that should have made him feel better, but they didn't. The first is that anyone who relies on other people to be happy obviously didn't have either any strength, or they would soon loose that strenght because people were shallow and didn't like him. Secondly that in loneliness man found purity, something that Snape still craved. The Dark mark always burned in his mind, even when he-who-must-not-be-named was debilitated, it had burned in his mind, like a secret shame that everyone could see. It was odd then that Severus Snape, a man who had was now on the 'good' side, was considered by both sides to be evil, even though he had considered himself otherwise cleansed of his sins.  
  
But that was the thing about sins. They tend to come back to haunt you. There was no such thing as forgiveness, just not immediate anger. That's what his father had taught him. 'Never forgive, never forget. A man's sins are as much a part of him as his good deeds, moreso in fact." Well, his father had shown his mantra of hatred and coldness to his mother. Snape rarely thought about the past, but it was a pity Mother had to kill herself when she did. It was awful for eight year old Snape to find his mother dead, hanging from the rafters by her neck, swinging ever so gently, blood dripping down onto his neck as he looked up at her, smiling gently, sanguine dropping from rope that had cut into her neck. Poor mother. Father had paid though. He'd killed him. It might seem heartless now, but there is no such thing as a heart when you are faced with the man who drove your mother to kill herself and made you spend most of your life in misery. Snape honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed. Not a self-satisfied laugh of shaddenfreuder, but a proper laugh at something that was actually funny.  
  
It was probably best not to think about it. Snape slipped into his black nightgown and ignoring the whispers from the shadows, lie on his hard bed in his Spartan room, alone, unable to sleep.  
  
********  
  
Snape hadn't slept last night, but that was exactly an unusual circumstance. He prided himself on his lack of need for sleep. But even Harry Potter noticed that he looked unusually ruffled that morning as he took his NEWT class. But that didn't stop him from being as foul as usual.  
  
"Potter, what are you doing!" he snapped as he cut his lotus roots, "don't you realise with pieces that big the potion won't be ready 'til Christmas! Cut them smaller boy!"  
  
"Yes sir." Snapped Harry, keeping his eyes low.  
  
"Ten points from Gryffindor!"  
  
"Yes sir." Snarled Harry, giving an exasperated look to Hermione. She rolled her eyes in agreement.  
  
Snape ignored her blatant disregard for his authority for the second time in so many hours. He looked to find something wrong with her potion. "Miss Granger, do you know what's wrong with this potion?" he shouted.  
  
"No Professor...."  
  
"Does the fact it is too dark worry you at all? Do you think that the shade doesn't matter? Do you know that a single ounce more of scaled bogwreath can kill a man? Do you want to try this potion on your cat?"  
  
"No sir." Said Hermione quietly, now put back in her place.  
  
"Well, next time I advice that you follow my instructions fully."  
  
"But sir...."  
  
"But nothing! Ten points from Gryffindor for your impudence!"  
  
Hermione remained extremely poker-faced for the rest of the lesson. As Snape returned to his desk, he heard Harry whisper to her, "Hermione, you're a prefect, did you see the man they pulled out of the lake?"  
  
"No," she whispered back, "but I heard he looks just like..." She motioned her head at Snape.  
  
"I know, that's probably why he's got that bug up his....."  
  
"Ten more points off Gryffindor, and if I hear you speaking from your place again Potter and Miss Granger, You will have detention with me for a week. An experience I belief none of us wish to have."  
  
"Yes sir." Intoned Harry and Hermione simultaneously before falling into dumb silence.  
  
In the end, Snape was forced to give Hermione five points because of the quality of her potion, but his mood improved as a runner ran in and said, "Excuse me, Professor Snape, he's awake..."  
  
"Ah, Good." He said, taking off his dragon skin gloves, "Tell Dumbledore I'll be there in a few moment..." Snape saw the class had suddenly become very slow on leaving the classroom, an event that hadn't happened since he had left Hogwarts. "Go!" he snapped, "don't you have my essay on the uses of Bogwreath to ruin?"  
  
The class suddenly left very quickly as he took his pre-prepared bottle of Veritaserum off the shelf (he wanted to use it on Potter to find out why he really hadn't handed in his homework, and of course he had lied to Umbridge about it's existence. He wasn't an idiot) and put it into one of the various pockets of his long, black robes. Storming along the corridors in a way a man with purpose can only achieve he pushed pupils and teachers alike, aside with the vigour of a man who knows he can act in this manner because he has a decent excuse.  
  
He pushed past the first year Slytherin's, and noticed how the little Slytherin he had almost saved the other day stared at him, not noticing that the rest of the class were filling into class. Snape, although wanting to reach the infirmary quickly said to the little girl in a particularly calm voice, "Go into class Miss Todd. You're late. You don't want to lose house points, do you?"  
  
The girl seemed almost curious at the notion, but slunk inside, risking an apologetic smile. Snape sighed to himself. The first years seemed to get stupider every year. He was certain that someone had slipped Slytherin house the retard. Typical. He wondered which Family Miss Todd had come from. He hadn't heard of it before. She was probably from a family so inbred that she was the first one not to be born with webbed toes. Definitely mentally deficient.  
  
He burst open the doors to the infirmary to be met with the stares of Madam Pomfery, Professor Dumbledore and MacDuff.  
  
"I apologise for my lateness, "said Snape, coldly, "I had to stop and help a first year out."  
  
"Well, now you're here." Said MacDuff, "we can question Snape two."  
  
Snape dislike his name being used like that, but allowing his mouth to coil into a distasteful sneer, he passed the bottle of Veritaserum to MacDuff.  
  
He looked at the bed where 'Snape two', as MacDuff had dubbed him, lay. He was tied to the bed with leather straps, his long black greasy hair tumbling like algae over his rock like complexion. His eyes were black with rage and misunderstanding, but as he had been gagged he couldn't say what it was. As he looked at Snape, himself, he cocked his head, and the he lost the animal-like look in his eyes. It was replaced with something far worse. It was replaced with longing, pathos and a wish to know what's going on. His clothes had been taken, and replaced with the standard nightdress. To Snape, he looked just like a madman as he tried to chew through the bonds and struggled out of the leather manacles.  
  
MacDuff removed the gag and holding his wand to the head of 'Snape two' he said, "Now, we don't want to hurt you, but we will if you force us to."  
  
"Ah, you want me to come nice and quietly," sneered Snape Two, "you don't want to try and kill you, for instance."  
  
MacDuff wasn't too sure about this sentence and carried on, "Look, I know we haven't exactly been great to you, but if you answer a few questions....."  
  
"I will answer anything you ask me to answer truthfully." Said the second Snape simply, and without a trance of irony in his voice, "I have nothing to hide." He looked up to Dumbledore, "I'm sorry for the mess I made of Hogwarts Professor Dumbledore, but I didn't exactly know where I was going to land, and that's the problem with the technology, it's not as precise as the people who make it."  
  
"I understand...Severus." Said Dumbledore, patting the greasy black hair, "now, we're just going to give you a drink, then we can talk some more."  
  
MacDuff poured some of the Veritaserum into a cup, and placed it to 'Snape Two's' lips. 'Snape two' sniffed the concoction and throwing MacDuff a suspicious look said, "This is Veritaserum."  
  
MacDuff turned red with embarrassment. 'Snape two' sighed and said, "I'll drink it if it makes you feel better, but I doubt if you'll get the response you'll want." Then, before anyone could complain, 'Snape two' grabbed the cup between his teeth and drank it down.  
  
Throwing the cup to the floor from between his teeth he grimaced and said, "Ech, awful stuff, but necessary. What did you want me to tell you?"  
  
********  
  
I think this is a better place to put Author's notes, so here they are.  
  
1/ The name comes from the name of an episode of Red Dwarf where one character manages to clone himself and finds that he really hates the other version of himself. This is going to be a lot different, but I like the name too much to dismiss it.  
  
2/ For some reason I'm convinced that Snape is kind of emotionally devoid, or at least trying to suppress the emotion when he talks about the way his father died. Keep in mind how his father died. It will come back into the plot at some point in a very obvious way.  
  
3/I'm sorry I went on about the little Slytherin girl, as she probably will be called the rest of her life, but she's one of my muses, and I can't help but write about them.  
  
4/ Yes, I spelt Shaudenfreunden wrong, but that's because I can't spell. I promise that as soon as I find out the spelling, I will put it in. But if you say it phonetically, it should be about right.  
  
5/ The fact that Snape calls a pupil a retard is a reflection on his character, rather than an attempt to insult people, so please don't take it the wrong way. Please don't. But the joke about webbed toes is half amusing.  
  
6/ Yes, this is intentional Cliff hangerism, but I think it's a good way to keep your attention. Also, I'm bad at endings and didn't want this to get too long.  
  
Thank you for reading, and I hope you review.  
  
Xandra The Blue. 


	3. Snape the Prisoner

Chapter 3 - Snape the Prisoner.  
  
Hey! Um, not much is explained, that won't happen until chapter 4, but please, hang in their! It will be worth it.  
  
Please review this poor author, and let her know how she's doing.  
  
********  
  
Dumbledore sat calmly, watching as the second Snape pulled a little at his bonds. "Who are you?"  
  
"Severus Snape"' the second Snape answered truthfully.  
  
"Who are you?" Repeated Dumbledore.  
  
"Severus Snape." He said again.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"If you look in my clothing, which you took from me." Said the other Snape bitterly, "you should find my Ministry papers and a few other things that will confirm that I am, in fact, Severus Snape."  
  
Snape couldn't let his go on. "Look, I'm here, how can you claim to be here as well?"  
  
"That is harder to explain, but please, can you for now believe that I'm Severus Snape? I can tell you think I'm crazy, but I'm not. I am Severus Snape, Auror first class....."  
  
"I'm sorry headmaster, I don't understand...'  
  
"Severus.' Interrupted Dumbledore, 'what if I say I believe you?"  
  
"I would be glad." Said Snape Two, straining against his cuffs. "I suppose it would be too much to release me from these cuffs?"  
  
"I will, when you answer a few more questions."  
  
The second Snape stopped struggling.  
  
"I want to know what you're doing here, if you are in fact, Severus Snape."  
  
"I...was sent here.' He said, 'I was sent here by the Department of Metaphysic's to warn you."  
  
"Metaphysicist's?" asked Dumbledore.  
  
"It's a department in our ministry, I don't think you have it here, but where I came from the department was set up due to....because....because...because they came."  
  
"Who came?" asked Dumbledore gently.  
  
The second Snape smiled. Not the smile they had seen on the first Snape's face many times before, but a proper smile. A smile that wasn't forced, but one of trust. "I don't know where to start, but you know when....when.....vol....v,v,v...He-who-must-never-be-named came? It must have happened here..."  
  
"Voldermort?" Everyone, except Dumbledore and MacDuff winced at the mention of the Dark Lord's name, '"yes, he existed here."  
  
"Well, it was around that time when they appeared. They called themselves the 'metaphysicist's.' They said that on the condition that their race was accepted on earth, and that they were treated equally, they would help rid us of He-who-must-never-be-named. They were true to their word, but it wasn't until afterwards we learned what they really wanted. We think that they came from the stars. After the wars, well, everything had to come out into the open. It was almost funny, seeing Fudge, fudge things up between the 'Physicists' as they're called, and come out into the open. But Dumbledore, I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. They've been hiding, and Fudge has made things worse." He looked at Snape, his black eyes almost in tears, "We stand on the edge of a knife. One wrong turn, and He-who-must- never-be-named will return, and it won't means death for just half-bloods, mudbloods and muggles, but purebloods as well. Fudge doesn't know what he's dealing with, when he talks with the 'Physicist's." The other Snape closed his eyes, rolling his head towards the ceiling, 'you sent me here Dumbledore, now please help me." And with that, he promptly fainted.  
  
There was silence for a few minutes. Then, carefully MacDuff said, 'Do you believe him Dumbledore? I mean, it could have been a faulty Veritaserum...."  
  
"That potion was perfect!" exclaimed Snape, feeling personally insulted, '"I know, I made it myself, and I never make a potion wrong. But what he said, it can't be true."  
  
Dumbledore lowered his hand in such a way that they felt compelled to quieten down. He drew in his breath ominously and said, calmly and quietly, 'I believe he was telling the truth, and that our Snape is a fine potions maker."  
  
Snape, although feeling a little better about being comforted over his potions abilities, said, "He might have built up a resistance to Veritaserum, so if he was questioned like this....."  
  
"Severus, I see no reason for him to do so. I still don't think he is lying about whom he is. If he were keeping your appearance by any sort of magic, it would have shown 'cracks' by now. I believe that this man, is essentially, you. But that he is also not you. Now, Severus, I don't know how this is, or what is going on, but I believe that he is telling the truth."  
  
"I believe Dumbledore is right." Added MacDuff quickly.  
  
"But he still hasn't explained why he's here." Said Snape.  
  
"I think he'll tell us in time, but I think he's had a hard time getting here, we must let him get his strength back before he finishes his explination. For the time being we must assume that he is either you from the suture, or you from the past."  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
"Well, Severus, he shares many of your characteristics, but he isn't the same man. Therefore we can come to the conclusion he either, whet you were, which I doubt because I have known you all my life, or what you will become. But I find that hard to believe because h looks the same age as you."  
  
Snape thought about this for a moment. He still couldn't believe what he saw, but somehow he had to believe it. This man was himself, whether either of them liked it or not. He had been telling the truth, and although Snape wished this had never happened, he found himself being rather intrigued by this man who was, essentially, himself. Another Snape. He always though he was the last, and here he was, another one of himself. Sometimes the loneliness gets too much, when you know that it's just you. He touched a lock of his other self's hair. It was the same texture, the same greasy black. He felt as if he was watching his life go past, just by looking at this one man. It was not events he'd seen, but regrets and triumphs, silent victories and hushed scars.  
  
Unknown to many, a body does tell a story, if you look hard enough.  
  
Snape, still looking at himself said, "Dumbledore, I wouldn't ask, but....but could I have the next few days off?"  
  
"Certainly Severus, I'm sure that we can get a replacement easily, just for a few days." Said Dumbledore, understandingly; "I'll get Poppy to set you up a bed, as you'll be 'ill' for a few days."  
  
"Thank you sir." Said Snape, truly gratefully.  
  
Dumbledore and MacDuff left, leaving Snape along with himself.  
  
*******  
  
It was much later when the second Snape woke up. Snape himself had nodded off, and was woken up to the sound of his own voice saying, "Wake up Snape."  
  
"Whu?" he said as his brain got into gear. Then seeing the other Snape he sat up straight, ready to begin questioning.  
  
"I see that at least one of us is bright and ready." Said the other Snape sarcastically.  
  
"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit..."  
  
"'Useful one too." Snapped back the other Snape, "Now, can you release me from these straps, they're becoming extremely tiresome?"  
  
"I want to know why're here." Said Snape, leaning over to the strapped Snape.  
  
"I thought I told you that already."  
  
"I don't believe you."  
  
"You should. That was good Veritaserum I took."  
  
"Thank you, but that isn't the point. Why are you here?"  
  
"I told you, I was sent by the ministry..."  
  
"You said Dumbledore earlier." Exclaimed Snape, jumping on his mistake.  
  
"Well, technically I was sent by the ministry, but Dumbledore convinced me to come. He's the only man anyone at the ministry trusts since he-who-must- never-be-named went away. The whole worlds in an uproar. 'They' are arguing with the Ministry like cats and dogs. We stand on the edge of another war. If we don't act, 'they'll' kill us all like Dogs."  
  
"Who are 'they?" The other Snape was about to open his mouth when Snape interrupted, "and if you say 'the Metaphysicist's' again, I might be forced to kill you."  
  
"They? They are a race of non humans." Said the other Snape, as if it were obvious, "Non-human's who've lived with us throughout history. But the thing is, the thing is things have changed. They want their fair share of the world, and they aren't getting it. Muggles and wizards alike won't let them have it."  
  
"Yes, I'm getting the point, but why are you, specifically you out of everyone else in your world, here." Snape spat, spraying spittle everywhere.  
  
"I was sent here to warn you about them!" shouted the other Snape, angrily, "That's why I'm here you idiot! I didn't want to come! But the told me they had to send an emissary, and they chose me. I know a million different people who would have been better the me.' He screamed, raging, 'But they sent me! I'm just an auror, I'm not meant to deal with stuff like this!"  
  
Silence fell over the room. Panting, almost as if the argument had exhausted him, Snape said quietly, "You're an auror?"  
  
"Yes, now go report what I said to Fudge!" snapped the other Snape, his very body rebelling against the leather straps, "That's why you're here..."  
  
"You are mistaken." Said Snape, the little colour he had in his face running out, " I teach here. I'm the potion's master."  
  
The other Snape went quiet. "What?"  
  
"I teach here." Said Snape gently.  
  
"So you don't..."  
  
"No."  
  
The other Snape lay back on the bed. Then, sighing loudly he said, "Are you under strict orders not to let me talk you into undoing these bonds?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Damn." Said, looking up at the ceiling, "I was hoping that even if I'm still a prisoner, I could have me hands back..."  
  
"Good afternoon Professor's Snape." Said a bright and cheerful voice. They both looked over at Madam Pomfery, who had been listening to their conversation, " I was just on my rounds when Professor Dumbledore told me that I am allowed to release Snape on the condition that he allows me to give him a check up and that he will come with the other Professor Snape, to his office afterwards."  
  
"Thank God." Said the other Snape, as Madam Pomfery undid the bonds. He sat up, and rubbed his wrists, checking that his hands still could move and stretched his back.  
  
"Now, I just need to ask you a few questions, do you smoke?"  
  
"No," said the other Snape, rubbing his ankles.  
  
"Drink?"  
  
"Not often, but the occasional butterbeer has been known to temp me, especially when offered by a lady."  
  
Madam Pomfery giggled like a school girl. "Excuse, me, I can't call you Snape, or I'll get confused. I suppose I couldn't call you something else."  
  
"Why not?" Mused the other Snape, drawing his knees up to his chest, "You could always call me Severus. No one seems to call my...frie- ...aqua...double here that, except Dumbledore."  
  
"Alright Severus, I'm just going to give you a physical examination, Professor Snape, you might want to leave..."  
  
"Yes." Sighed Snape, "Severus, I will be waiting for you behind the screen."  
  
After about half an hour of various examinations of which Snape didn't want to know about, Severus walked out with madam Pomfery, asking, "Can I have my clothes back?"  
  
"Of course Severus, but you know we have to take your wand..."  
  
"I know, usual precautions, but there's only one thing I want. It's my wallet. I don't need the other stuff."  
  
Madam Ponfery went to her desk, and brought out a small box with all the possessions that Severus had taken with him, and passed him his now cleaned up robes, plus his miraculously clean boots. Then she passed him the brown wallet, which Snape realised he also, had in his own robes. Severus looked through it under the scrutiny of Snape and Madam Pomfery, and drew out a photograph, a wizard one anyway, and slipped it back into the Wallet. Then he put the wallet into a pocket.  
  
Snape resisted the temptation to open his own wallet, and taking Severus by and arm, marched his down to Dumbledore's office.  
  
As they entered, Dumbledore, sitting at his desk, looked at the two of them and looking at Severus said, "Please will you, Mr Snape, explain why you are here before we approach the ministry?"  
  
**********  
  
TBC 


	4. Snape the Adviser

Chapter 4 - Snape the Adviser.  
  
Hi! I'm sorry, but I'm going to be away for two weeks, so you won't be getting and update for that long, but I hope you enjoy this one, and I promise there is a sort of explanation in this chapter. And yes, this is extremely Cliché, but I'm the writer, so I'm allowed to be a little Cliché, I mean if the best can get away with it, the worst can have half a chance.  
  
**********  
  
Severus looked him in the eyes, and said, "Dumbledore, may I talk to you without Professor Snape in the room. I feel that he would find what I have to tell you is tiresome, and I'm sure he has lessons to....."  
  
"I would rather....."  
  
"Please, Severus, leave." Snape, feeling extremely angry stormed out. The two of them heard Snape taking some points from some Gryffindor first years for 'loitering' before they began to speak.  
  
"Mr Snape...."  
  
"Severus, please Headmaster." Said Severus politely, "I would prefer to be called Severus."  
  
"Of course," said Dumbledore, "Would you like a drink? I mean a proper one."  
  
"No thank you headmaster, I would rather get down to business. I'm sure you want to know why I'm here..."  
  
"I am somewhat curious, yes. Especially as you managed to destroy a good part of the building."  
  
"I apologise for that, I'll have to tell the ministry when I get back, but why I'm mainly here is to warn you of a possible future."  
  
"A time traveller?"  
  
"Not exactly, but maybe." Said Severus, " You see, I was sent to this world before any other for one simple reason that you, yourself defined in my reality. That this has the highest number of 'Psyxen' people in this world than others."  
  
"Please explain."  
  
"We believe that they have been among us for a long while, but been hiding. They aren't human, but they hadn't been on earth too long before the wars started. Only, say thirty or forty years. I don't know how you could explain them, but they are mostly human. It's just that they seem to be more powerful than anyone could understand."  
  
"And you know how...?"  
  
"Headmaster, as I think you will have noticed, I am a different man to your own Snape. I am an Auror, he is a teacher at your fine school, I am considerably more trusting than he is, while he still is trying to find reasons not to trust me, he is cold, while I like to think I am somewhat warmer. I fell in love with a half-blood Psyxen." He said, as if this was the last comparison. He sighed and said, "As I believe you feel, it is in love we learn to understand, while in hate we learn to set apart. Well, she's dead now, but I think I understand their true nature. They just want a bit of the world for themselves and to be treated fairly, like all people. Professor, in your world there are thousands hiding what they really are. There has been a rise in the number of non-magical pupils to your school in the last forty year, a huge amount, and that isn't just a simple chance, they attend your school, some of them may even work here, but your Minister for magic has a chance. He can offer the hand of Friendship, offer it before its too late for all of us. If you do that now, then maybe, just maybe." Severus's face did something Dumbledore had never seen a Snape face do. It looked defeated. "Maybe we could avoid the war that threatens both our world."  
  
They were silent for a moment. Then Dumbledore said, "I was aware of the Psyxen race, but I wasn't aware of their anger towards us."  
  
"I didn't know until they decided they would make themselves public." Said Severus amiably, "but the Ministry came down hard on them. Ever since the Ministry have tried to make them register, well, you don't want to know what they've been doing."  
  
"My guess is that it's violent."  
  
"Not really, but there's been a huge uproar. Lot of people who are muggle- born have been lynched, often without any proof against them, and I would believe that he-who-must-never-be-named is willing to have such a powerful race behind him. And as at least the ministry here have admitted that, well, I was sent here by my Ministry to warn you. I think Fudge wanted me to tell you to hunt them down and kill them, but I can't do that. If you can get the Ministry to listen to you, if you can make them understand, well its worth more of a chance than my world is at the moment."  
  
"And what do you suggest I do? Do I tell everyone to admit to what they are; their family are...I can't do that, Severus, you know that there would be more mobs. You have put me in a difficult position. And I can't put my students in Danger."  
  
"I know you couldn't. Not in Danger you couldn't help them with. Not Danger that you know they couldn't handle. But you have to understand." He begged.  
  
"A Snape has never begged me to understand before. They have begged me to give in; one has begged me to forgive, to trust again, but never to understand. Do you know how hard it is to understand?"  
  
"Yes." Said Severus, looking Dumbledore in his eye, "that's why I ask you to try."  
  
"Could you tell me what you suggest?"  
  
Severus put his head in his hand, as if he had a headache. "I don't know Professor, I don't know!"  
  
Dumbledore smiled at him. "I know that this is hard for you, but will you tell me how you got here?"  
  
"It's easier to understand than it sounds at first, but the Psyxen people, the people I'm talking about, well they're very highly advanced. They are using magic for things we never even considered. I know about the time turner, but they sort of made one that goes, well sideways."  
  
"Sideways?"  
  
"It goes across worlds rather than back and forwards in them." Said Severus, almost as if he had memorised it, "They call it the Reality crosser. The finest minds had been working on it for ages, and finally they got it working. James had offered to go instead of me, but they decided that I should go. They said that I knew what to say. But I don't."  
  
"Excuse me, did you say James as in James Potter?"  
  
"Yes, why..."  
  
"I must ask you not to mention him to Snape. They had a...disagreement in their youth, a disagreement that has lasted all of Snape's life. He would not like to know that James lives in another place that he could reach."  
  
"I understand sir. I didn't like him much at first, but somehow we got to be quiet good friends. I wonder if him and Sirius are up to their tricks, or if Remus managed to calm them down..."  
  
"Severus, I must explain. Here, James Potter died fifteen years ago, while Sirius Black died last year. Remus is still alive, but I doubt if he would recognise you as a friend."  
  
"We never became friends here, did we?" said Severus, "I'm sorry to hear that they are dead. How did Lily take it..."  
  
"She died here as well. Fifteen years ago as well. She died barely a few minutes after James. Voldermort killed them, and he killed Sirius a year ago."  
  
Severus was silent for a moment, as if he had suffered great pain. "He killed them?" Dumbledore nodded. Severus, his face unreadable, looked up at Dumbledore and asked, "What happened to James and Lily? I have to know."  
  
"They were hiding from him, but someone betrayed them to Voldermort, Peter Pettigrew in fact, and well, he went into their house and killed them. But their boy Harry survived."  
  
"Well, at least someone's alive!" exclaimed Severus in a vain attempt to feel cheerful "Was he all right?"  
  
"Yes." Smiled Dumbledore, " But we got distracted. You were saying how you got here."  
  
"Oh, yes, well, with the help of some of our friends at the Ministry, and some Psyxen researchers, we managed to get here, but I was meant to land about fifty yards to the left, on the pitch. Well, I'm glad I didn't now. But this does prove one thing, and that the multiple Universe theory is correct. It wasn't some strange past or future we were seeing. You see, I'm not too sure about the technicalities, but according to the main researcher, to get me here they had to weaken the barriers between universes. I was lucky that around here its relatively weak, or I might have died. I must have travelled for hours to get here, but it seemed like days." Severus seemed agitated. "All I remember is the sensation of being ripped in half, and hearing voices from everywhere in my head, images suddenly going through my mind. Some I recognised from my own past, others, others were other peoples, but it seemed like being in pain forever until I remember myself being, well, put together again as I fell into the lake. I must have created a huge magical surge as I came through, to which I do apologise for."  
  
"Well, I do forgive you, but how are you meant to get back?"  
  
"I was told that they'd contact me when they thought my job was done, " said Severus, "But if I needed to contact them, I could always use my wand, which I understand why I can't have, but Professor, I suppose I couldn't have it back?"  
  
"Severus, could you do one thing for me before you leave?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Roll up your sleeves."  
  
Severus, a questioning look on his face, rolled up his sleeves. Dumbledore looked at his arms. They were bare, untouched by the dark mark. They looked like the arms of a man who had worked hard all of his life, but wasn't particularly muscular. Dumbledore let a blank smile float briefly across his face and said, "Well, you can have your wand back, but I don't advice you to leave the grounds. If the Ministry find you, what you fear may come true."  
  
"I know Professor, but where should I sleep tonight. I don't think the Infirmary is exactly appropriate, as pupils could walk in any moment, and as you said, we can't afford to have all this go to the Ministry until you figure out what to do."  
  
"I'm sure Snape wouldn't mind sharing with you, just until we get this sorted out." Answered Dumbledore, patting his hand.  
  
"I don't know if Snape is really that keen on the idea." Said Severus, "I'm not sure if we'd get on..."  
  
"You IareI him Severus, I don't see how you couldn't agree on something."  
  
"That's why I think he won't want me there. We like our privacy. Sharing a room isn't one of the things that Severus Snape likes to do, especially with his own thoughts."  
  
Dumbledore allowed himself another smile, and said, "Severus, I shall send for Professor Snape as soon as his lesson is over. I'm afraid that there is no other quarters empty for you, but you will have to share for a while."  
  
"Thank you, sir." Said Severus, with the slightest of slight nods.  
  
*********  
  
It was later when Snape reported to Dumbledore's office. As he opened the door he threw himself a dirty look, and then looking over at Dumbledore said, "You wanted me?"  
  
"Ah, yes Snape, our Visitor here, he will need a bed for the night, and we have decided that the infirmary is an inappropriate place to keep him. I would like him to stay in your quarters."  
  
Snape looked at the other version of himself, looking at him quizzically. Snape's mouth fell open, looked at Dumbledore as if to question his order, and then shouted, "Iwhat! I"  
  
"I would like you to share your quarters with Severus here." Repeated Dumbledore, as if he couldn't understand Snape's objection to his request, "I'm sure there's a spare bed around here that you can put in your rooms."  
  
"But Professor, I need quiet in my rooms, I have my lesson plans, marking..."  
  
"I'm sure Severus can be quiet enough," said Dumbledore, an odd twinkle in his eye, "and it will only be for, at the most, a few nights."  
  
"But Professor..."  
  
"Professor Snape, I will talk to you alone, Severus, would you mind waiting outside?"  
  
"Yes professor," said Severus, getting up from his seat and walking out of the door, closing it behind him quietly.  
  
"Severus, please sit down...."  
  
"No Dumbledore, I refuse to let him stay in my rooms. I need my privacy to work."  
  
"It's only a few nights Severus, I don't see what's wrong with that..."  
  
Snape tried to think of an argument, but couldn't think of one. But he decided to speak anyway, "It is out of the question!"  
  
"Severus, You haven't let anyone into your quarters since you joined Hogwarts, what are you doing down their that's so secret that no one can see it?"  
  
"Nothing professor...."  
  
"Then I don't see the problem, you will allow the other Severus to stay in your quarters until we find another place for him to stay, and that is final."  
  
"Oh, so it's Severus now?" sneered Snape.  
  
"Professor, you are being irrational now..."  
  
"Of course I am! I refuse to have that... cretin stay in my rooms!"  
  
"You realise you're talking about yourself?" Snape suddenly felt flummoxed by this statement of the obvious. He sighed, and Dumbledore finished, "I expect you to look after the other version of yourself and for him to turn up to breakfast tomorrow at the teachers table alive and well. Good day."  
  
*********  
  
Author's notes.  
  
1/It reads a little like a Greek Tragedy's Chorus,(especially Euripides's ones.) so I do apologise for the unnaturalness of the speech, but I thought it was the best way to go about this.  
  
2/In case you haven't noticed, I call the second sSnape "Severus" to help clear up confusion. Or create more. I don't know how it works yet. Snape always refers to himself as "Snape" In his POV.  
  
3/How do you get Italics to work? If it doesn't work in this then please tell me how they work! I need to know!  
  
4/For some reason I thought it was best to show that Severus never became a Death Eater in this world (as if we didn't know that already), and I thought Dumbledore would be curious. So I wrote it in. Please don't shoot me.  
  
Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy this offering before I go.  
  
Please read and review.  
  
TBC 


	5. Snape the Agent

Chapter 5 - Snape the Agent.  
  
*********  
  
While this argument took place inside Dumbledore's office Harry, Ron and Hermione were walking past.  
  
"...Well, I can't wait until I get Snape's essay finished, because, for once, it seems that I can play Quidditch without being banned or killed or mauled for whatever reason." said Harry, as he walked pasted Sev, who was re-organising his scarf as Harry went past.  
  
Harry suddenly realised that he had seen something very Odd, as had Hermione and Ron.  
  
"Was that Snape?" he asked.  
  
"Wearing...red?" asked Ron, as if he had just seen Snape give a hundred points to Gryffindor and put Malfoy in detention. "And a trench coat?" he said, as if he had just seen Snape hug Harry and tell him he loved him.  
  
Hermione did a double take. "I think that's Snape, but, but it can't be...."  
  
They all turned their head simultaneously as they watched his hang the scarf over himself. He suddenly saw that they were staring at him. "Go on, " he said, "You don't want to miss supper do you? Especially if you're trying out for the Quidditch team later. Good luck!"  
  
Harry's mouth hung open for a second before he mumbled, "Thank you Proffesor..."  
  
They walked, still staring at him as something small and hurried ran into them, knocking them over. "Hey!" shouted Harry. Then he saw it was a little Slytherin girl, who now, looking like a rabbit that had just seen the headlights of a six tonne truck, was trying to pick up her books.  
  
"Ow," moaned Ron, "watch where you're going. You nearly killed us!"  
  
The little girl said nothing, but dusted herself off, looking a little hurt, and still staring at them.  
  
"Ron, don't be so harsh on her, she's new!" admonished Hermione. Then turning her attention to the new girl she said, "Now, what's your name, you look lost..."  
  
The girl said nothing, but stared past them, her eyes wide with fear. She tried to run past them, but Herminie stuck out her arm and stopped her. 'Hey, where do you think you're going? Aren't you even going to apologise?"  
  
The girl stopped struggling, picked her bag up off the ground, and ran away in the opposite direction. 'Darn Slytherin," said Hermione, "Always think they're better than us..."  
  
"I can't believe you said 'darn' said Harry as they walked off, talking amongst themselves as Severus Snape accompanied his double down the hall; unaware of the encouragement he had unintentionally given Harry Potter, the boy who he hated.  
  
**********  
  
As Sev entered Snape's rooms, the first thing he noticed was...how cold they were. It wasn't just the temperature, but the whole place seemed designed to send shivers down his spine. The floor and walls were made of cold, grey stone, the furniture crafted from fine, but almost black, wood. The rare rugs that were in this room were threadbare, little more than a huge drop strict that had been laid on the floor. The room was, in so many words, Spartan.  
  
No. It was, it was like someone had taken a Spartan room and removed anything and everything that made the room warm. The fireplace was sooty, and looked like it hadn't been used in years, the candles looked as though they were made from ice, and the windows were a colour that made even the light seem freezing. It reminded him a lot of his parent house, well that was before he had sold it after they'd died.  
  
"Are you sure this isn't a morgue?" he asked.  
  
"What, too cold for you?" Sneered Snape.  
  
"No." he answered quickly, "It's just, a lot colder than I expected."  
  
"I expect it is." Said Snape, in a voice that seemed mocking, but not in a way that could be defined.  
  
"You...get a lot of people down here?" he asked.  
  
"No. I work alone."  
  
"Good. I suppose I could use the classroom for a quick report to the department of Metaphysic's?"  
  
"There's nothing to stop you." Said Snape neutrally, as he performed a spell for a bed to appear, " there. You've got a place to sleep. I'll be in my office if you need me. I have work to do."  
  
"Thanks." Said Sev, sarcastically. As Snape left the room his threw off his coat and scarf, and opened his wallet, searching through for something. He took out a wizard photo, and he looked at it for just a second before he whispered, more to himself than to any casual observer, I "I'm doing this for both of you."/I and he found himself smiling a little. He put the picture on the bed Snape had conjured, throwing the wallet down, letting the possessions spill out, and then walked out into the classroom.  
  
He walked in the old dungeon, and memories, memories that didn't belong to this place began to flood into his mind. The happy hours he'd spent doing extra potions work, the time he'd spent with James, Lily, and Remus doing potions revision on the seventh year, under Lily's insistence, the time when all of them got into trouble and had taken refuge in here. Severus had been glad that Professor Hall, the old Potion's master, had been particularly sympathetic as Snape had been his favourite pupil. James, Sirius and Remus had given him some stick about that, but they were glad of it in the end.  
  
Severus forgot his memories again, and rolling up his sleeves, flicked his wand while saying, I"Uipime Sturiteni"/I. It only took a few seconds before what looked like a large hole in space, a bit like a TV screen appeared in mid air. There was an image in it, in black and white, grainy and blurry, but you could make out some figures in it. If you looked carefully enough, you could see Professor Dumbledore, but obviously not the professor Dumbledore that was here, because he sat in a place that was filled with crackling wires and various wizards trying to fix up some of the machinery with wands. It was definitely not the world he occupied now as James Potter was standing in the background, looking as if he had just got off his broomstick, shouting at someone with acid green hair and bright yellow eyes, half in English, half in Psyxen. Business as usual at the Department of Metaphysic's. If Fudge ever found out, he'd blow his top.  
  
"Professor?" he asked. Dumbledore, James and yellowed eyes man turned around at the same time, as if they had only just noticed him.  
  
"Sev." Said the image of James Potter, the word jumpy as is the connection was faulty, "what....too...k....you...so...long."  
  
"I was detained, they caught me and, well, I've been chained up and questioned for the better part of a day."  
  
"Are you...all right?" asked the Yellow eyed man in cracked English.  
  
"Yes Doctor, nothings missing."  
  
"Good."  
  
"I told them what you wanted me to tell them." Said Severus, "can I come back?"  
  
"Did...you...tell the...Ministry?" asked Dumbledore, but the image was fading and blurring.  
  
"No."  
  
"You....Must.... Tell them..." but the rest of the sentence was too cracked and muffled to hear what he said.  
  
"I'll go to the ministry, but is Michael okay?"  
  
"Michael....fine...But go to....the ministry."  
  
"Yes sir, but it might take some time." As he said the last word, the image faded away, and Sev cursed in the style of the Snape family. As hard as possible. The placed his wand back into his robes, and for some reason, a wave of nostalgia came over him. He hadn't been back here for at least twenty years. He walked around the room, and sat at his old chair, Nothing much had changed. He remembered when he had first arrived here, he felt like he'd know this place like the back of his hand before he had left because he had ended up spending so much time here, being a good student.  
  
That was possibly why people hadn't like him until his sixth year, when he, in so many words, began to loosen up. It was Lily's fault. He had become her friend at the end of the fifth year, and then, in turn had become Remus's friend, and after a two-night cram for a Charms exam, he had managed to gain the trust of Sirius and James who had managed to get top grades. He remembered once how he had helped James with his homework, and Professor Hall had almost fainted when he saw the grade. Severus had never let on it was partly his work, although he had never let him copy. That was the rule of the clever students, it seemed. Always help, never copy. Except in extreme circumstances.  
  
As he sat at his desk, remembering his life, he looked at the table. He had, as most seventh years at the time, taken the liberty of leaving their mark on some part of school property, other than trophies or otherwise. He had taken a quill and spent a lesson scratching in I Sev 4 Rya /I. But it wasn't there. He saw a newer mark of ICedric 4Cho /I and one of IFred + George woz 'er/I in what looked like burn marks, but his mark was missing. He suddenly realised that a pair of eyes were looking at him, almost boring into his skull. He looked around.  
  
He saw a little Slytherin girl, the one with the bandaged wrists and those eyes that expressed more than words could. Almost the second he looked around, She ran away, but not before she let it be known by her stare that she was incredibly displeased.  
  
*****  
  
It was while this happened that Snape found that he couldn't work. He was in one of those moods that even giving Potter a 'D' couldn't help him continue. He couldn't sit down and work at anything, his mind felt like a simmering potion. He thought he might make a potion, just to calm his mind down, but when he reached his office door, he heard the other Severus Snape talking to someone. Deciding that he didn't want to get involved, he went to his room to get a book from his bookshelf.  
  
It was as he passed the extra bed so clumsily placed in the middle of the room his mind began to wonder. He picked a book off the shelf, but as he stared at the contents of the wallet, strewn on the bed, he started to think. It was possible that the other Severus Snape had formed immunity to Veritaserum, and just as possible that he had charmed his appearance to look like himself, while almost managing to convince Dumbledore that he was in fact him. Dumbledore was always too trusting. Snape didn't trust himself, he had to find out. He put the book casually on the table, and sat on the bed, looking through the papers.  
  
Identification paper, all in the name of Severus Snape, almost identical to his own, Auror's papers, he didn't know much about the papers they carried, but he saw enough to see that they were his own, a letter from Dumbledore, addressed to him, asking him to come, some other various bank statements, all in the name of Severus Snape. ISnape, Snape, Snape...where's the evidence? It can't be! I know he's lying... /I. It was at this point that he noticed a picture lying on the bed. He dropped the other papers on the floor, and picked it up. It was a wizard photo, so the people in the picture were moving around a bit, but he knew the people in the picture.  
  
There was a woman, a woman he recognised from school. It was Rya Gerieya, a Death Eater he had known. She was, apart from Peter Pettigrew, the only known Gryffindor Death Eater. He had a stupid attraction to her when he was in the Death Eaters, and it was as if the Photo had brought back all the memories of being a Death Eater.  
  
He remembered how she had agreed to go on a date with him, for whatever reason she had, and they had got on quite well, she even allowed him to have Sex with her, but he had known that this was more to do with the fact he was a Death Eater than the fact she was attracted to him. He had even thought he had loved her, in a fit of young passion, but he soon learned that he didn't. He learned he didn't when The Dark Lord decided that she had been holding a secret against him, and had used the Cruciatus curse on her. She had writhed in pain, screaming on the floor, and Snape had wondered why he hadn't died when he watched her. He felt as if the curse had been acted on himself, but it hadn't. Tiredly he had watched, unable to do anything. It was at the moment when she looked up into his Ebony eyes, and he saw the expression of fear and death wish in her eyes that he felt himself begin to want to move. But he couldn't, and that was because he was a Coward.  
  
Voldermort had continued to torture her, in front of his eyes, and he had let a few tears run down his face, pretending that the dust she dislodged in the old room caused them. Finally she had screamed out that she did know which Village the Potters were in, and with that information Voldermort had killed her. The group of Death Eaters had moved on, leaving him alone with her. He hadn't used Avada Kedavra on her, no; he had simply picked up a poker from the dirty fireplace and bashed her head in, wounding her body, and left her body like one would leave a dead rat. He had stayed their, tears running down his face; unable to stop himself crying as he cradled her weakened body in his arms. He remembered that the last thing she said, as he looked into her bright, sea blue eyes, was 'who will cry for the doomed children?' as if she knew something.  
  
Her blood on his hands, he had cried, her body turning stone cold. He had been young, weak, emotional as he had dragged her body to the hill near Little Hangleton and buried her body in a shallow grave, with no more than a cross made of two sticks and a torn sleeve to tie them together to signify where she lay.  
  
The same woman who he had buried before turned sides was in this photo with his other self; smiling gently, laughing a little, hold his other self, the other Snape by the shoulders. It outraged him! How could she smile, didn't she know she was dead! Why was it that the photographs never got it right? There were pictures of people smiling who would die the next day, or frowns when they would be laughing soon. How could that be right? How could one of the few women he ever though he cared about in any way be laughing at him as if she had defied the grave.  
  
And there he was, smiling, looking a little shocked at the small bundle in his arms. A bundle he had never seen before, but his other self knew very well. It was a baby. A small, but perfect baby in his arms as he cooed over it, playing with it. It was probably at this moment he realised that it must be his own child, in a way. Rya and he had a baby, they had maybe been married, but they had a child together. His face drooped. How could this be? She had died seventeen years ago, how could she be in this photo? It was impossible; it couldn't be, not if the other Snape and he were the same person.  
  
Was this proof that they weren't, or was it that he couldn't take his eyes off the picture? It was the like the mirror of Erised, but more real. His whole face was at a loss for what expression it should be in, so it was slack, jaw open, eyes wide in an expression between disbelief and longing.  
  
He stared at Rya, looking so happy as she held him, him as in Severus Snape, laughing, and he cooed, playing with the baby. He watched the scene, over and over again, like a video recorder stuck at one scene. He couldn't put it down. They looked so...happy together. She didn't look like she didn't want to be there, or like she was only with him because she pitied him, which was the usual case, but because she actually I liked/I him, she might even have loved him as much as he thought he did...  
  
"Um, Snape, do you...WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" shouted Sev as he came in the room, "going through my things!" he snatched the photo out of his hands and sneered, "You didn't trust me, so you thought that you'd make sure..." Severus looked like he could have hit Snape, "I shouldn've known..."  
  
"Well, that's what you get for leaving your things around, 'Sneered Snape, right back, "If you're in someone else's home, you should at least keep things to yourself."  
  
"I thought you were marking paper, not going through mine to see if I was lying!" snapped Sev, "how dare you!"  
  
"Well, if you didn't have anything to hide, why're you so...upset about it, eh?" enquired Snape, seeing he had the upper hand, "Unless there's something in their that I don't know about..."  
  
"Go ahead, look!" shouted Severus, "Damn well find something that says my name's bloody Joe I'm-Trying-to-overthrow-the-world, but don't you dare go through my things without permission!"  
  
As Snape picked up the papers on the floor, and stuffed them back into the wallet, he said something he had to know. "Who are the people in the picture you're holding?"  
  
********  
  
Authors notes -  
  
1/I doubt whether Snape would own a wallet, but can we just say he does for the sake of the story, and allow a little more artistic Licence.  
  
2/The fact Our Snape is unemotional when remembering the death of this woman, although he was obviously extremely attracted to her shows that he is quiet emotionally blocked. Okay, that is an extremely pretentious thing to say, but let me say it anyway.  
  
3/There is a picture on Elfwood that I based Rya's death on, and when I find it again, I will give you a link, but for now that's where it came from.  
  
4/ Cliffhanger again! Sorry I won't be able to update again until at least the 26th of July, but I'm going on Holiday and won't have access to a computer.  
  
5/ I was listening to the Album '18' by Moby when I wrote this. Just though you should know.  
  
Thankfully as Always, Xandra the Blue.  
  
P.S Please read and review. 


	6. Snape the Discontented

Chapter 6 - Snape the Discontented.  
  
Wow! I'm back! I'm sorry I've been so long! It's just been first of all my holiday, so I couldn't write then, and then block, as well as three other stories I'm trying to keep going. Oh well, I'm back now. Thanks everyone who's reviewed and given opinions before now. It's just like to say that they are very much appreciated.  
  
********  
  
"It's me and my wife of course!" Barked Sev, half-heartedly, "who did you think it was?"  
  
"I didn't know you got married, " said Snape, caught off his guard, "I thought you were single, like me..."  
  
"Hm." Sev grunted, looking at the picture himself.  
  
"Who's the boy?"  
  
"He's Imy/I son." Such emphasis was put on the world Imy/I, it seemed as if he didn't want Snape to try and take him away.  
  
"What did you call him, I hope you didn't give him a stupid name..."  
  
"We called him Michael." Said Sev, a little in a dream state himself.  
  
"I expected you to call him something like Sylvester, or Sam. It's been a Family tradition for..."  
  
"It's a name that suits him, so why should it have to be something like that?" asked Sev, "Yes, we've had some times together..."  
  
"You and Rya, fun together eh?" scoffed Snape.  
  
"She's dead." Said Sev coldly, "Voldermort kill her, trying to save her son. Our son."  
  
"Is he still..."  
  
"Yes. He's at Hogwarts now, doing his NEWTs. Got top grade OWLs, of course, he worked hard for them as well. Determined. He must be the only child in the whole world who you couldn't pull away from a book on Christmas day." He mused, a smile lighting up his face.  
  
"So he turned out a Snape then." Said Snape, almost proud of his own son.  
  
"Mostly, yeah." Said Sev, his anger fully diffused, "he's got the knack for potions, and transfiguration, but I think that has something to do with his mother rather than me." Sev turned around, and putting the picture back on the bed slowly.  
  
"How sentimental." Said Snape, his voice like ice.  
  
"Yes, I am sentimental, but I've got something to be sentimental about." Said Sev, adding because he felt particularly cruel, "unlike you."  
  
Snape couldn't think of a comeback for that one, so he simply stood up, gave Sev a haughty stare, and grabbing the book he'd out on the side, stamped off to his office, hiding his slowly reddening face. As he slammed the door to his office, all Snape was able to think was, II'm not Jealous, I'm not Jealous. The other me, he's just a weak, stupid man, I'm glad I didn't turn out like him. I'm glad I don't have a family, any of the responsibility of a son, I'm glad I never cared about anyone dying, I'm glad I've never put myself in a position where I'd be weak.../I But even as he did so, he knew he was lying. He was as Jealous as hell. He slammed the book on the table, and picked up a quill and started marking again.  
  
Two out of ten, three out of ten, seven out of ten. His mind was buzzing with thoughts other than potions. How the hell did the other version of himself end up as an Auror, trusted assistant to the Ministry and a family, well, a family of sorts, and he end up with this? A Job teaching ignoramuses and spoilt brats how to make potions, hated by the Ministry and no one who gave a damn whether he was alive? He often mused, in the darker hours of the night, that if he were to suddenly have an accident that left him dead, well, no one would care. But He often cheered himself up with the thought that if anyone else died, he wouldn't have to care either.  
  
Eight, no, make that seven and a half out of ten.  
  
He wasn't jealous, he told himself, there is no way he could care about what his other self got up to. It was just a case of waiting for Dumbledore to sort him out, and then things would go back to normal. No Rya, no weird worlds, unless you count the one that you live in, and definitely no copies of himself. It would go back to being alone. Just alone again.  
  
Five out of ten.  
  
He wondered what his double could be up to, but he scoffed to himself; He'd probably be reading or something like that. Or, he thought mockingly, pining over his dead wife. Snape laughed to himself. Idiot. It's been, well a long time since she died. It shows you what weakness brings.  
  
Four out of ten.  
  
People trusted the other Snape, that meant he had to do things for them, he had to be *nice*. Snape rarely had to be nice to people, he could a complete bastard and get away with it, and why? Because they knew that he wasn't pleasant. It was one of the lies people tell themselves. No one is a nice, pleasant or even decent human being. It's just he didn't have to pretend he was to other people. He was an idiot, letting people think he was a good person, if you let people do that, well you might as well just ask them to walk on you.  
  
Three out of ten.  
  
And what was all that about being Sentimental? It was one step away from being a bloody bohemian. People who're sentimental are the worst. They expect other people to care about people *worse* off then themselves, which is not only impractical, but, well, stupid and romantic. Sentimentalists like that go on about foolish things like *love* we're all supposed of have for everyone. People don't love. They're cold, looking out for themselves, and this approach to life had served him well.  
  
Two out of ten.  
  
He couldn't be Jealous of that. Snape had a life, relatively few responsibilities, a steady income and somewhere that was quiet. You don't get that if you have to share your life with Children or anything. You can't have the things you like, you can't go out at night to hunt ingredients of potions, you always have to put them first. Snape didn't know why. When he was a child, he had to do what his parents said, or he would simply be punished, none of that choice or whatever the new fads are. He grew up fine, doing what his parents wanted. He didn't actually see much of his parents, especially after Mother had hung herself, but he grew up a normal child, just doing what he was told by servants and learning how to keep quiet, and not complain.  
  
One out of ten. These pupils seemed to get worse every year. No, he was perfectly content on his own, as he had always been, living apart from people, not getting tricked into doing what people wanted, except Dumbledore. He was a happy, content man who had everything he wanted.  
  
So why did his mind weigh in his head, and his throat ache like he was about to cough up a stone. He coughed a few times; feeling a few drops of water hit his face. He would have to dust here more often, and where did that water come from? He would have to check that ceiling later, but right now he had to finish marking. But he couldn't. The papers were blurring in front of his eyes, and he had to gasp for air.  
  
He wasn't Jealous! A voice inside his head screamed, he couldn't be Jealous! It was the other Snape that was the failure, not him! Not him! He hit himself hard on the face. Stop thinking, go on! You've got papers to mark, homework to set.  
  
But Snape couldn't he just couldn't go on like this. His mind just wasn't on it. He had a pile of paper work to do, work he usually enjoyed in his sadistic manner, but today he just couldn't. He threw down his pen, splattering ink everywhere. He put his head in his hands, and grunted.  
  
*********  
  
It must have been about three in the morning when Snape finally got around to marking the papers. His double had gone to bed long ago, and Snape had calmed him mind down enough to give Hermione Granger an A/E (Bordering between "acceptable and exceeds expectation." If Snape had felt a little fairer, he might have admitted she deserved an E before writing it down, but his mood was fowl to say the least.) To keep himself awake he had put on the radio.  
  
"This is the Witching Wireless, and you're listening to Nick Ferrari on the Muggle music hour." Said the less than cheerful voice on the radio, "and that was 'I hate you so much right now' by Kelise, or whoever she is. What will these crazy Muggles come up with next?" the voice sighed. "Sometimes I really, really hate my job. I mean, I heard the Muggles are so stupid that they can't even run a bus service right. If you can't even get a bus to come on time, how the hell are you supposed to change key right? I mean, err." The man on the radio sighed. "Okay, the next one is from that 'oh-so cheerful' group with the stupid name, Elbow, called Power Blue. Yeah, this is for all you manic-depressives who can't sleep at this hour."  
  
Snape growled. He hated Muggle hour, but slight less than he hated modern witching music. It all seemed so bad these days. No decent music for the last few years. It seemed like all songs these days were decidedly bad. He had nearly finished the marking, and he was quiet glad of it. He felt himself nodding off gradually, his eyes unable to understand the purposely- bad handwriting of the students. He finally ended up writing on one paper, "One out of ten, disgraceful and please write in handwriting that people can understand!"  
  
"Wow. If they get any more cheerful, a funeral might break out." Said the bored voice on the radio, "Elbow, singing about how being dead makes you alive. Great guys, maybe you could stop using paradoxes and get onto actually writing music. Well, our next tune Is Extreme ways by some guy who named himself after a wale, Moby. But why do you care? If you're up this late, I'm sure you feel too comatosed to care. And it's a dance track, no one writes it, they just....well, here it is. Enjoy it music listeners."  
  
Snape couldn't help but growl at the music. It was poorly written and was so... obtuse it made him want to cave his own head in with his pen. Instead of doing this he picked up the last paper. Just a first year paper, it shouldn't take too long. He noticed the name was Ysabelle Todd. He slapped the paper on the table, and started to read.  
  
Question one - what precautions should be taken when adding dogroots to a potion for the prevention of pain.  
  
Snape, you don't know what trouble you're in. They're watching you Snape, and if you're not careful, they're going to get you. You didn't get your double by accident. The Metaphysicist's have a higher calling for you, even if you don't want it. The Dark Lord wants you.....  
  
Snape put the paper down. What the hell was this? He suddenly felt a little frightened in his dark office. He turned up the radio, and went onto the second question.  
  
Question two - What is the correct way to prepare Mentil plant for a potion to help the memory  
  
You can't refuse the Dark Lord on your own, Professor. If you refuse them, they will get you. They will hunt you down like a dog and drag you kicking and screaming to your fate, whether you like it. You can't pretend to not be affected by this, because I know you will be...  
  
Then two words floated up in blood red letter on the paper, bleeding over the others words.  
  
KNOCK, KNOCK, PROFESSOR.  
  
BANG BANG BANG! Snape jumped in his seat and saw his double open the door. "Keep that music down will you!" he exclaimed, "some of us sleep at night." And he stormed out off the room.  
  
Snape didn't bother to go after him and explain how he was right. He looked at the paper again.  
  
Question one - what precautions should be taken when adding dogroots to a potion for the prevention of pain?  
  
One precausion that should be taken is to where Dragon hide gloves and to add it slowly because if you don't it will explode...  
  
He looked all the way down the paper. The paper had changed. It was just the typically badly answers questions the other pupils had given him. He shook his head. It must have been because he was half asleep. He gave the paper a two out of ten, and went to bed, feeling unusually awake.  
  
**********  
  
Notes.  
  
1/ Nick Ferrari is a radio DJ my brother hates. I thought it might amuse those of you who listen to BBC radio.  
  
2/Yes, I know, a Matrix reference. That is so old....(slinks off.)  
  
3/ The misspellings in the homework are intentional. That's how I really spelt before I actually check everything. Oi, oi, oi!  
  
4/ I rather liked the effect of his thoughts being marked like a piece of homework. But I think most people, other than me, would find to pretentiously art house. Oh well.  
  
Thank you for reading. Please have a pleasant day, and don't forget, for every action to don't take another universe springs off your one at a right angle. Make the universe you live in a better one.  
  
Xandra the Blue. 


	7. Snape the Antagonised

Chapter 7 - Snape the Antagonised.  
  
**********  
  
Snape woke up to the sound of moving around in his rooms. First of all thinking it was an intruder, he sat up and grabbed a candlestick, but as he heard his own voice swear gently under it's breath, he knew it was his double.  
  
He got dressed in the shortest possible time, and walked slowly into the main room, assembling his tired face into its usual look of contempt and hatred. The other version of himself was already dressed, but was rubbing his knee. "I walked into a table," he apologised.  
  
Snape gave him a look of pure contempt and said; "I will show you to the hall, as you don't seem to be able to walk from one end of the room to the other without bumping into anything."  
  
Sev gave him a dirty look, but allowed Snape to show him to the hall, all the time fuming at Snape. As he looked at himself he asked himself, Iam I really that condescending? Am I really that pail? It has been a long time since I remember my last job in the sun, but I really can't look almost dead. I can't be that Ugly? I never realised that my nose hooked as much as that. And do I really look that Greasy? /I Sev looked at the other Snape, but all the time his mind seemed to refuse to believe that it was him. It just couldn't be! He refused to believe that this man in front of him was, no matter how far removed and different, was essentially, him. This man was suspicious, cruel, lonely and, well, not how he wanted to think of himself. If was like everything he denied about himself had been personified and thrown in front of him.  
  
He couldn't be a completely horrible man. He had to have some redeeming quality. He was him, he couldn't just be a nasty, slightly sadistic potions teacher who trusted no one and had nothing. He couldn't be. This couldn't be one version of him. There had to be a mistake. It just couldn't be true. This man had to a good person in one way. But this man, he was cold, condescending and just...Sev wasn't too sure. It was either hate filled or extremely sad. He wasn't sure why this man, himself, would be either, or why he himself had thought he could be either of these things, but his rooms in the Dungeon were not the rooms of a man who was happy.  
  
As they walked into The Great Hall, Sev could feel over a thousand pairs of eyes giving him a double take and heard the sounds of over a thousand people spluttering as they realised they saw two Severus Snape's. Snape motioned to Sev to go to breakfast, sitting next to Dumbledore, which he did before both Draco Malfoy and Professor McGonagall faced him  
  
Professor McGonagall's face looked like thunder as she strode over to him and shouted, "Professor, I found on of your first years, walking around the halls last night, out of bed. I took fifty points from Slytherin, but I expect you to punish her properly!"  
  
"I shall give her what she deserves." Said Snape neutrally.  
  
"Don't use that one on me Severus," She hissed, much to the amusement of all the Gryffindors who were listening into their conversation, "She should be given detention for at least a week!"  
  
"Then that's what she will get." Said Snape, his voice devoid of emotion. McGonagall l, obviously annoyed by his level headedness walked off, while Draco Malfoy waited to speak with him.  
  
"Professor, " he said in a simpering voice, "I found Ysabelle Todd walking around the corridors at three AM"  
  
"Sixty points to Slytherin for your good work then," Snape said Smugly. He saw McGonagall looking at him with an expression of hatred and grinned nastily. Stupid Gryffindor. It pleased him immensely when he could get his revenge on Gryffindor, although sometimes he wondered what revenge he was exacting. He swept over to the table where his Double was eating like a man who hadn't eaten for ages, occasionally apologising for his manners between mouthfuls of the food.  
  
The way he ate disgusted Snape. He ate like an animal, unrefined, tearing at bacon and sausages with his teeth, like an animal ripping at a corpse. He sat down next to the other Snape, and taking his usual bowl of Museli and listened in.  
  
"I trust to see you slept well Severus...."  
  
"Thank you headmaster, " he said between mouthfuls, "But please call me Sev. I think it's easier as my double here wouldn't like to be called that."  
  
"Of course, but later we will have discus how we should approach the Ministry. We will have to be very Diplomatic. Out Minister, Cornelius Fudge..."  
  
"...Is paranoid enough with the threat of The Dark Lord, let alone the other races." Finished Sev, "yes, as I was briefed by, well, you."  
  
Dumbledore allowed himself a small smile. "Indeed, but I don't think that this is a matter to be discussed over breakfast. You have free reign over the school grounds, as long as you don't disturb lessons of course."  
  
"But the pupils Headmaster, if they see me..."  
  
"Sever... Sev, I'm perfectly sure the pupils can come up with their own explanation for your appearance, but I shall tell the pupils in a few days. But first of all we must not let them know who you really are. The ministry may find it disturbing, they might not think before they act and so on."  
  
"I see Professor," he acknowledged as he started on some fried bread, "do excuse me Headmaster, I haven't eaten for a few days."  
  
"I understand Sev."  
  
"I don't remember the school food being this good...or perhaps that's just my memory being jaded."  
  
"It's of no consequence, I'm sure, "said Dumbledore lazily, "please, continue breakfast, but I must ask you a question that's been puzzling me so far, and you must answer me truthfully."  
  
"Of course headmaster."  
  
"Who is the dark Lord in your world?"  
  
"Which one?"  
  
"One?" asked Dumbledore, hiding his horror.  
  
"Um, sorry, I meant He who must not be named."  
  
Snape chocked on his museli. At the very mention of the Dark Lord, his arm began to tingle, making his drop his spoon.  
  
"Severus," enquired MacDuff, "Are you all right?"  
  
"Yes, yes I am!" he snapped, more at himself than at MacDuff.  
  
"Okay," said MacDuff, looking away, turning back to his conversation with professor Flitwick.  
  
"We must discuss this later," said Dumbledore.  
  
Snape put down his spoon. What the hell was going on? Snape looked at himself, and realised that he was right about his double. This might be more than it was worth. He had brought along trouble, and a lot of it. The thought that his double might have messed up made him want to smile. But, unlike Snape, no one seemed to have noticed. But Snape was of the mind that his double would be under strict orders not to tell him anything, and although he did not think himself that important, he still wanted to know what he had meant.  
  
"Excuse me, ISevI" he said, nastily, "Finished?"  
  
"Ummff?" asked Sev, his mouth full of fried egg.  
  
"I'll take that as a yes." He sneered, and grabbing his double by the arm, "C'mon!" And with that he pulled the other version of himself out of the chair, and lead him out to the corridor to the Great Hall.  
  
As Snape, not hiding his double from sight, walked pasted the Gryffindor table, Hermione looked up, and almost spat out her pumpkin juice in astonishment. "Oh my God, is that what I thought I saw?"  
  
Ron had turned white. "Please, please let that be the effect of Dobby's cooking on breakfast."  
  
"Two Snape's, who could think of a worse fate?" asked Harry, "Two of them, twice the...snapeness." He shuddered, "Ehh, that's a thought that shouldn't be thought on a full stomach."  
  
Neville leaned over to them. "I'm so glad I didn't take potions. What do you think it was, he made a double so he can create nasty punishments for pupils more efficiently?"  
  
"Neville, you really know how to cheer me up, don't you?" asked Ron sarcastically.  
  
"No, I think this has to do with the lake, " said Hermionie, "And we're going to find out, even if I have to actually talk to Snape."  
  
**********  
  
The moment Snape left the hall; he grabbed his double by the lapels, and thrust him against a wall.  
  
"Talk." He said simple.  
  
"About what?" asked his double.  
  
"You know what. What did you mean, which one?"  
  
"Which what?"  
  
"Don't act stupid, it doesn't suit either of us, " spat Snape, "Which dark lord? That meant something. It means that you've brought your trouble with you as well!"  
  
"Take your hands off me," growled Sev, his eyes suddenly flashing with anger.  
  
"No." Growled Snape back, his own hooked nose practically touching Sev's own.  
  
"I've been told not to hurt anyone, but I think I might make an exception for myself." Sev rasped back, his hand going down to his pocket.  
  
"Oh, a slave of the Ministry are you?" Snape jeered, grabbing Sev's hand in a vice-like grip, "You always have to do as they say? Like a little boy?"  
  
"Just because I don't want to share some unimportant information with you, a simple teacher, you take me out here to mock? " He sneered, grabbing Snape's other hand. He clamped onto it, and squeezed. Snape didn't want to show that his other self was getting to him, but his grip was like that of a python, deadly and was causing his hand to go red. He could feel his bones crack under the pressure, looking into his other self's face, the pure concentration on not showing any kind of emotion.  
  
Finally, Snape's grip on Sev's wrist loosened, and Sev pulled his hand out of Snape's. He almost fell down to the ground as his other self let go, abandoning him. Sev only walked about two foot down the corridor before Snape, managing to summon some strength in his hand grabbed his wand out, and screamed, "Impediementa!"  
  
Sev let out a short shout as the invisible ropes tied themselves around him, holding his unceremoniously upside-down. Sev, attempting to kick in mid air, his robes falling over his face, his black jeaned legs looking rather superfluous as he tried to get at his wand. "What the hell....."  
  
"I'm taking you to the ministry, right now!"  
  
"What about Dumbledore?"  
  
"He trusted you, but obviously, he was wrong." Shouted Snape, "Now, if you don't do as I say, I'll take you to Fudge and get the reward he'd probably pay for you."  
  
"You'd go to Azkaban for this, our Fudge would put you their!" Shouted Sev, his eyes standing out of his head, "Or your Fudge would lock you up!"  
  
"Talk!"  
  
"No"  
  
"What the hell troubles have you brought with you?" Screeched Snape, like a hysterical schoolgirl, "You come here, you walked around like you own the place, you talk to everyone like you're the oldest of friends, and act like you're a......you're a.....you're a Bloody Marauder, and now you've brought trouble with you, tell me! Or are you too bloody perfect to do that!"  
  
"Bloody Marauder?" asked Sev, looking confused as he hung, but once Snape had started his rant, he wasn't going to stop.  
  
"If it was me doing this, I probably would be dead by now, but no, when It's someone else bringing trouble to Hogwarts, it's all they can do to accommodate them! But me, well, I might as well just have become a hermit! Tell me, tell me what the hell you're going on about, who the hell this Dark Lord is, and maybe, maybe I'll let you go, but I'd rather let you hang their like the arrogant smart Alec you are!" Snape, his face red, his throat suddenly swore from the pent up rage had to gasp for breath before he could hear Sev's answer.  
  
"Please, just let me down and I'll answer you. I'll answer you, and I will tell Dumbledore, but first of all, just let me down." He said calmly.  
  
Snape, as if he had just realised what he had just done, looked a little confused, but then putting on a face of resigned triumph he raised his wand, undoing the spell. Sev fell back to earth with a bump. He sat up, rubbing the back of his neck, and gasped, "You didn't need to do that."  
  
"What is this?" said a gentle voice.  
  
Both Snape's turned around. Professor Dumbledore was standing there, as if he had been watching the whole event. Both of them looked at him with wide- eyed horror before Dumbledore said, "Severus, go to class, I shall talk to Sev. "  
  
"But, but...."  
  
"No buts Severus." Said Dumbledore, his voice suddenly warning; "This is a matter for the Ministry."  
  
"But Headmaster....."  
  
"Severus, don't you have your NEWT classes this morning?" said Dumbledore with more wit than he should have been allowed to have.  
  
Snape gave up, and stormed off angrily, turning his back on the old man before he drew a face of disgust. How dare his other self get off so lightly? How dare he not tell him what he wanted to know? Snape's pallid skin turned a very bright shade of beetroot red. Snape was beginning to hate himself a lot more than he thought he would.  
  
**********  
  
Notes.  
  
1/ I think it's funny for both Snape's to hate each other so much. Also, have you noticed how little most people actually know about themselves? A person can go through life thinking they're good, but in fact be evil, or the other way around. It's just a matter of perspective. The way you view a situation is different to everyone else's. For example, an accused murderer could see himself as an innocent victim, while the rest of the world see him as a barely human monster. But, it could be that a supposed hero could see his own heroic actions as cruel and callous, while the rest of the world could see them as good.  
  
Okay, more on that later.  
  
2/I have to admit, I think like Snape does at the end of the chapter, but that's because I see waaaay too much of myself in Snape. I'm petty, sharpe tongued, somewhat good at what I do and dislike people that I don't know well. So, my apologises for putting my own resentment about the world into Snape.  
  
3/ yes, the hanging thing was a reference to OoTP  
  
4/ I swore in this chapter. Sorry! I didn't mean to, but it was the only way I could express everything.  
  
5/This Is continuing, but very, very slowly. I'm sorry, I'm just being slow at the moment. 


	8. Snape the Metaphysical

Chapter 8 - Snape the Metaphysical.  
  
Let's just say that although this chapter isn't that interesting, the next one will be better!  
  
***********  
  
During the course of that day's lesson, Snape estimated that he took the grand total of one hundred and fifteen house points from Gryffindor for offences such as looking at him insolently, not reacting quickly enough to his commands, talking, whispering, sniggering, eyeballing him, questioning him, asking him questions, not asking him questions, being too quiet, not being quiet enough, breathing in an irritating manner and so on.  
  
Harry thought that he was torturing him more than usual, especially as he gave him detention that night for not getting an "O" in his homework, which he felt was more than a little unfair, as neither had Hermione, Ron, or in fact anyone else in the class. So as he left the class muttering and cursing Snape under his breath, he was surprised to see that Hermione had stayed after class, just to question him about the apparent double.  
  
"I'll wait for you outside, Hermione, " he said, "he's in such a bad mood today."  
  
"Okay Harry, I will." Said Hermione, smiling sarcastically, "I'll scream in horror if he attack me, and you can be a hero."  
  
"Again?" laughed Harry, "I've got plenty of that, without you adding to it." And with that, he walked out.  
  
Hermione walked to the front of the classroom, where Snape was pretending to busy himself in his paperwork, sighing angrily. His mind was still ranting about his other self. He was so.....so....arrogant! He thought he could come in here, come in here, tell some tall tale about some weird race and then bring his own trouble here. Another evil Lord at a time like this! How dare he! How dare he be happy and calm at a time like this when he knew the only reason he still had a job was because Dumbledore, in the absence of a better word, trusted him? But Dumbledore also trusted the other Snape, who turned out to be a liar. It was that thought that terrified him. What if he was a liar as well-.....  
  
"Professor Snape?"  
  
Snape looked up and saw that it was just Hermione. "What!" he growled angrily.  
  
"Um, Sir, this morning at Breakfast, well, I saw two of you and...."  
  
"Miss Granger, although you may think your prefect badge gives you the right to peak into every nook and cranny in this school, you will find that you're mistaken. Twenty points from Gryffindor. "  
  
"But...."  
  
"Ten more points Miss Granger, and if you don't leave...."  
  
"Excuse me, am I disturbing something?" asked a very, very familiar voice from the door. Both of them turned around. It was Sev. He had a self satisfied sneer on his face, even thought his long, greasy hair was a little messy, his long green and red scarf askew and something about his walk said that he was feeling uncomfortable.  
  
"Sir?" asked Hermione, accusingly.  
  
"Hermione Granger, isn't it?' he said, his voice unusually charming. Either that or completely devoid of the usual loathing for her name that it usually contained.  
  
"Yes sir?"  
  
"Hermione Granger, Hermione," his voice mused before he suddenly asked gently, "Why're you here?"  
  
"Err, umm, err, I was wondering, well, why *you're* here." She asked shyly.  
  
"Ah, that's a difficult thing to explain, but I'm sure that my double here will be more than glad to help me explain."  
  
Snape flashed him a look of hatred before letting his face relax into a neutral sneer.  
  
The other Snape ignored this, and said, "Well, I'm not sure how much I'm allowed to tell you, but I will anyway. You're an intelligent girl, if I know you correctly, so it won't take too much explaining. Have you heard of the many universe theory?"  
  
"Yes sir, it states that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction that occurs in a different universe. For every different action that happens in a universe, in another one the other possibilities are played out, therefore meaning that all universes are expanding to make room for the other universes."  
  
"You've been reading up on your quantum theory, haven't you?" grinned Sev gently, "Nice to know that at least some wizards have the sense to see that not all muggle's have their head in the sand. Yes, you are correct. From that I assume that you have ascertained where I'm from. I'm from a neighbouring universe, a lot closer than you think. "  
  
"Sir?" asked Hermionie  
  
"Muggle science." Mutter Snape under his breath, "all stupid and illogical."  
  
"I wouldn't mock it until you've listened to It." snapped Sev, "as I was saying, I'm not from around here. That's why I'm here."  
  
"But, but...." Hermione argued.  
  
"Now, I think I have something to discuss with my double, and" looking down at his wrist he said, "I think you better go off to your next class, or you'll be late." Hermione, at the though of being late went wide eyed and ran out of the classroom. The moment she left Sev let out a humourless chuckle. "I knew that would work."  
  
"What?" said Snape weakly.  
  
"I'm just going to retire to your rooms, keep myself busy while you take lessons...."  
  
Snape looked down at his own watch. "No you won't." he said quietly. Then, louder he said, "No you won't. You'll sit down here, and explain yourself!" he shouted.  
  
"Explain what?" said Sev, more calmly than she should have.  
  
"You said you'd tell me everything." Said Snape, "You said that you'd tell me."  
  
"I never said anything of the sort. I said I'd tell you what you asked me." Said Sev.  
  
"Then tell me that." Replied Snape, unsure what he should be doing.  
  
"Alright, the name of the other threat to our world is Avekai. " He said, walking off to the private rooms.  
  
"Wait!" Shouted Snape, "Why's that a threat?"  
  
Sev kept walking, not stopping or turning back. Snape, frustrated with his doubles insolence, ran over to him, and twisted him around.  
  
"What do you want?" snapped his double.  
  
"I want to know everything." Said Snape, his voice edged with venom and menace.  
  
"Your bully tactics might work on children, but they won't work on me!" hissed Sev. Snape growled in response, but Sev smiled unnervingly, and said, "I'll tell you, I'll tell you why he's such a threat, but I doubt if you will either believe me, or comprehend why."  
  
"So try me." Countered Snape.  
  
"Well, if you want to know, he is what they call an Old Blood Psyxen. He is the last of the Kathedui line, the last son. The Kathedui were one of the oldest clans of Psyxen, brought down by their own strength. He is the last of the line, but he had a lot of supporters. Of course, he fell out with the other leaders of the race, who were the ones to decide to go public, and tell everyone that they were there, but of course, that's went wrong. Then to top it all off, Avekai goes to He-Who-Must-Never-Be-Named and makes a pack with him. Equal rights for Psyxens when He-Who-Must-Never-Be-Named takes over, and he has their support. That is why I said two lords, not one."  
  
"That's very hard to swallow." Replied Snape.  
  
"I know it is. I told you that you wouldn't comprehend it if you heard it. And nor do you believe me." Sev sighed and said, "I think I'll let you get on with lessons while I find something to do."  
  
Sev closed the door to the private rooms behind him, and sighed. He hated his Double. It felt odd, admitting that you hated yourself, but he wished that he knew everything about him. They were essentially the same person, but what had happened to make them so different? What had his Double done that made him so different? Had Mother lived? Was that it? Or had Father been what could loosely be called a better man, a better man who could have made even the worst seem good? And why had no one ever heard of the people he knew was threatening his world, it was like the whole place had buried it's head in the sand! Was there an Avekai in this world, and he didn't know about him? Why did he still distrust him, wishing that he were gone?  
  
Sev came to the realisation that he was possibly one of the most infuriating people he knew. He refused to tell anyone anything unless it was forced out of him, he was cold, he was condescending, he was sarcastic, he was a traitor even to himself, and .....he had caused him to say all this.  
  
He growled softly to himself as he heard the class file in.  
  
*********  
  
Snape's mood, if possible, had darkened throughout the day. He was on Tenterhooks. He must have given ten people in total detentions. As the last class of the day left, extremely quickly, he decided that he would have to find something for the people in detention to actually do, or it would be pointless just sending them here.  
  
He went to his personal stock, and tried to find the most poisonous thing he owned to put his Double's tea, as well as he had the feeling he had run out of Deathly Night Flower for tomorrows seventh year NEWTs class. He was right. He sighed quickly. He would have to leave quickly and disparate to the Lake District to find some before tomorrow, and he wasn't sure where they would be. An already pitch-black mood had gone into some sort of ?ber darkness. He growled in frustration. He would have to leave very quickly if he was to have enough time to look for them, but he had detentions tonight.  
  
Snape would have never asked another teacher to take his detentions, as he felt that showed weakness and bad planning on his side, and gave them the impression that he needed help. He sighed, and thought about his Dilemma. He could either let pupils off detention, never a good idea, and get the Deathly Night Flower for class tomorrow, or he could take detention, and not get it. Snape sighed. Difficult.  
  
But then his mind flitted to the Double. Perfect! He could take the detention and Snape could go out and get the Deathly Night Flower! But that just left the matter of asking...a difficult task in itself. Snape felt humiliated for having to ask, but his situation was fairly desperate. He had half an hour to ask before the detentions began. He went into the private rooms, and closed the door delicately behind him.  
  
His other self had engrossed himself in a book about the use of the less traditional items in potions (for example, Veela hair and dragon spleen). Snape stepped forward, wringing his hands looking in the opposite direction. The other self, not looking up from the book Snapped "What?"  
  
"Err." Snape really didn't want to do this, bit it was the only thing he could think of, and the situation was growing more desperate in his mind. "Could you take detention for me?"  
  
The other him put the book down very carefully. "Detention? What do I have to do?"  
  
"You're staying here, you should at least make yourself useful!" Retorted Snape quickly, "All I need you to do is to make sure that some pupils sit quietly at their desks while I go out an get supplies for tomorrows lessons."  
  
Sev gave him the look he knew too well. The raised eyebrow of disapproval, and the knowing, superior smugness. "I didn't know I was out of Deadly Night Flower!" he snapped, "Some one took it!"  
  
"Are you sure?" asked Sev. There was nothing on his face to say that he triumphed in this simple mistake, but Snape felt it. He felt completely humiliated. He knew that his other self saw this as failure, and for that simple fact, he was very reluctant to follow up his sentence.  
  
He did anyway. "Yes, now in my office I have a barrel of spark eels, all you have to do is make sure that they gut them, put the livers, hearts and eyes in the according boxes and don't talk with each other, don't step out of line...."  
  
"Yes, I know the drill. I was at school once."  
  
"I will return before midnight at possible, but you must not, and I repeat, must not, let on that you're not me!" said Snape threateningly, "You can't let them know that it's you taking detention!"  
  
"Why not?" asked Sev, the same, infuriating expression on his face.  
  
"Because that......." Snape had suffered enough from him, "because! Just because! I've got to go, the registration list is on my desk, take off that stupid scarf!" Snape growled, literally ripping the thing off his other self's neck as if trying to make a point, " it isn't even that cold down here. "  
  
"All right, I get the picture, please, just go!" Replied Sev, taking his scarf back from Snape; "I can do something without ruining it!"  
  
Snape growled at him under his breath, and running almost theatrically out of the dungeon, left before he put a hex on his other self.  
  
*********  
  
1/ I apologise for the title of this chapter. It isn't strictly accurate, but I couldn't stop myself.  
  
2/I've really crowbarred in some exposition there, haven't I? GO ME!  
  
3/ You get a bit of Sev POV in this, but this is because of what happens in the next chapter. Trust me on this.  
  
4/I think Snape would find it difficult to ask anyone, let alone his double, for a favour, so that's why he really has a go at him and tries to justify himself.  
  
Thank you for reading - Xandra the Blue.  
  
TBC! 


	9. Snape the bitter

Chapter 9- Snape the bitter  
  
*********  
  
Ten minutes later, the first drabble of detention-nees came into the room, slinking about like a pack of slovenly dogs, this pack, however, including Mr Harry Potter. Before he had left for his detention, Hermione had warned him: "Snape is really in a bad mood about this double business, so be careful!"  
  
Harry had sighed, hoping that for whatever reason, Snape had managed to fall down a mineshaft or been taken away by a pack of hungry hippogriffs before detention. As he saw Snape organising his desk at the front of the room, Harry realised that this wasn't the case, and felt a sense of foreboding suddenly land on top of him. He sighed and took a seat next to a third year Hufflepuff who looked like she was on breaking point. It was at this point he saw the barrel of spark eels. Harry shivered in disgust, and began to read the assorted graffiti on the desk in front of him.  
  
When, finally, all those who should have been present were present, sitting at the back of the dungeon together, they heard a loud voice at the front boom, "All of you, sit at the front, quickly!"  
  
They looked at the expression on Snape's face. It wasn't exactly an angry face, although it could be interpreted that way, it might have been a tired face if it weren't for the faintest tick of the beginnings of a smile on his face. The tick disappeared as they all sat at the front desks, looking more than a little apprehensive.  
  
"Well, well, well, what a sorry looking bunch you are?" he said, a little sarcastically, "Right, this is an hour of my time I don't wish to waste, you will each take a spark eel from the barrel over there, " he, at this moment, lifted on from his desk, holding it so it's head was between his fore finger and thumb, and it's tail wagged a little in the draft, "take the knife, drag it down it's belly," At this point slapped it down on the desk in front of Harry, slitting it open with the intensity and self possession of a man who had done this for his own pleasure in his own time, "and remove the heart, liver and eyes" he cut out the liver and heart easily, but the eyes had to be levered out with Snape's knife. This resulted in one of the eyeballs hitting Harry in the face, while the other fell on a fifth years lap, "Sorry about that, " he said seriously, holding out his hand for the eyes. Harry delicately put the eye on his hand, and the fifth year girl obliged him. "After which, you will put them in the labelled boxes on the table behind you, without mixing them up, the remains of the fish will be piled up, NEATLY and then put back in the barrel, do I make myself clear? " he ended, dangerously.  
  
There was silence.  
  
"Well, did I?" he asked, even more dangerously.  
  
There was a chorus of yes-es.  
  
"Right, I hope you've brought your gloves and overalls with you, or this will be an extremely messy business. " he replied, as he passed out the gutting knives. A few faces indicated that this was the case. Snape sighed. "Alright, there are some spare overalls and gloves by the cabinet over there."  
  
Harry wondered why he was being so civil. But this thought was driven from his mind as he noticed that he was staring at his forehead. Harry automatically covered it up with hair as he wondered why his scar had taken Snape's interest again. When he had first seen it, it had hardly merited the mandatory flick of the eyes, just to confirm what he knew. But the thing was, as he tried to look like he wasn't looking at him, he saw a touch of compassion that he had never seen in his eyes before.  
  
"Sir?" asked Harry.  
  
"Quiet Potter, " Snape replied, looking across the room quickly "this is a silent detention."  
  
Harry sighed, and went back to gutting the eel. He saw Snape, putting on his gloves he kept on his desk, stood up and stormed over to a second year Hufflepuff that was cutting the eel the wrong way. "What are you doing?" he exclaimed.  
  
"S-s-s-sir?" Stammered the second year, looking terrified for his life.  
  
"You're cutting it the wrong way, " Replied Snape, uncharacteristically gently, with an even more uncharacteristic smile, "Now, I'll show you again. The last thing I want is wasting these things. They're very expensive for eels. They apparently can conduct magic, as well as having specific healing properties for internal injuries. They'll be needed as the Quidditch season's coming up!"  
  
The second year tittered nervously.  
  
"All right, " and taking the second years hands in his hands he held the knife at a forty five degree angle above the eel, and then gently cut it. "See, it's up, and then down, " he said, repeating the movement, "just up, like that, and down again. Then after that, all you need to do is take the organs out."  
  
"Thank you sir." Replied the second year, the expression on his face belonging usually to those who have faced death and have just realised that they are still alive to tell the tale.  
  
Snape glided across the floor, watching each pupils cutting technique, occasionally accompanying his footstep with phrases such as, "That looks about right." And, "cut deeper girl! You won't get anywhere unless you cut deeper!"  
  
He walked past Harry, and although he looked over his shoulder, he said nothing. Harry was surprised by the lack of insults, but not exactly surprised by the lack of praise. Finally, Snape walked around to the front, and sat back behind his desk. He sat there, watching them, looking very slightly amused before he opened a book about unusual potions ingredients, looking up every so often to make sure that everyone was still working. It was about twenty minutes later when a fifth year Ravenclaw went to the barrel and realised....  
  
"Excuse me sir." The girl coughed politely, "But there're no eels left."  
  
Snape sighed, and looked at his watch. "You still have half an hour of detention left." He said, looking down at all of them, "I shouldn't 've given so many people detention. But, as I did, we might as well do something interesting to pass the time. You've done a pretty good Job,.....Wait. I swear someone's missing. I hope that no one has sneaked off."  
  
"No one's left the room since we came in sir." Said a first year Gryffindor.  
  
"But....where is Ysabelle Todd? She's on the list, but....."  
  
It was at that moment that a piercing shriek ran though the castle.  
  
*********  
  
Snape trudged through the mud, the bottom of his robes soaking wet from the saturated earth, his mood growing much darker as the sun went down, knowing that if he traipsed on long enough, he would be able to find the patch of Deathly night flower, but also knowing that his other self was probably ruining his detention, acting like he was a Saint to those ungrateful brats he taught all day, telling them anything and everything they wanted to know, of course, he wouldn't tell himself anything like that, of course not!  
  
It was at about this time he looked around. He had sworn that he had seen something watching him. He turned away. Anything that had been watching him had obviously lost interest. He turned back, and swore internally. He must have seen this water pool at least six times! He slumped down, put his head in his hands, and growled in frustration. Why had he not checked for the damn plant before? He could've gone out and got it quickly in Hogsmead, but the shop shut at five and it wouldn't open for him. But he hadn't checked for it before, mainly because his double was there. That was it. His double was some sort of test sent by some God with a twisted sense of humour, for his sins. Why else? Why else would this man, this man who looked just like him, but wasn't him in any conceivable way, come and start to take over his life. His mind seemed to be on him all the time; he was probably lost because of him! If his double weren't here, he would have checked his stores, got the deathly night flower at least a day earlier, and even if he hadn't, he would have found the patch by now!  
  
He looked into the slowly darkening water, and felt himself grow angry. Why, of all the things that could happen to him, did this have to happen? Wasn't he miserable enough all ready? Wasn't his life enough like a low grade, meaningless slog across time for the rest of humanity? Why did he have to be punished further? He had nothing. His parents were dead, any other family he had, had disowned him, people walked past him in corridors, whispering, muttering, untrusting, no one talked to him, apart from Dumbledore and the occasional pitying stranger, who soon learned why he was left unspoken to.  
  
James Potter, the bastard, had it all. He was dead, so no one could say anything against him. It didn't matter that James potter was a bully, an idiot or had the fattest head Hogwarts had seen in the whole of it's history, no, it was just fine for him to be that because he could chase a winged ball. He was a dead hero to all those who didn't know him. And Sirius Black, how come he got out of this so easily? He died a hero, his actions explained, the truth about Pettigrew revealed. It didn't matter that Sirius tried to kill him, no, it didn't matter one iota to anyone, except him. He had to admit Remus Lupin wasn't so bad, but that didn't stop him disliking him. He always acted so high and mighty, but he was just a sheep, following everything Potter and Black said.  
  
He hadn't even had much fun as a death eater to be honest. Yes, he got to kill some people he hated, some stupid muggles, but it hadn't been anything that he would want to do again. He had blood on his hands, and for what? A stupid tattoo and left alone to do what he wanted. What good was that? What had his other self done that had allowed him to be so happy? Had he been good at Quidditch? Had he not studied so hard? Had he been placed in a different house?  
  
Snape placed the heels of his palms on his head, and pulled at his long greasy hair. It wasn't fair! It just wasn't fair! He chewed his lip, and held his eyes tightly shut. It just didn't seem right to him!  
  
It was in his moment of quiet mediation that he heard a soft voice in the distance. "Just a little further Tommy, I know a nice place to stay for the night. Just a little further....Why did we have to end up here? Why were we abandoned? "  
  
Snape looked up. The soft voice, gentle but full of pointed sadness, inhuman, but strangely humane, the voice like that of a heavenly being. He scanned the hills for a source, but couldn't find it. The sun left an orange ring around the horizon and had become but a yellow dot in his eye line. There was no one. He was alone, just the setting sun, the clouds above that turned everything to a murky orange browny/grey. But as he looked behind himself, he saw two figures walking, knee deep in the dirt, practically wading through.  
  
It was two children. Two small children. The older, taller one wore a ripped and tatty cloak wrapped tightly around its skeletal body. Strands of silver hair fell out of the hood, and the cloak was short, allowing Snape to see the thing, paper white skin on the legs, and the overgrown toenails of the unshod feet. The other was wrapped in a child's woollen blanket even over it's head, and was the shorter of the two. It wore a pair of well fitting boots, but other than this, neither of them looked like that their parents were rich.  
  
Snape, knowing better tan to do this, called out, "hey! You!"  
  
They turned around. The child with the cloak looked at him through black eyes. He looked startled, afraid, terrified even. Snape, one his knee's in the mud said softly, "Don't be scared. Why're you out here?"  
  
"Tommy's ill, " said the little boy, using the same heavenly voice, "He's really ill. My parents are dead. My Sister killed them and threw them away. She threw us away. Please help us."  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
"Ave" he said, his red pupils glinting at him, "Tommy's very hungry. We've been walking all day."  
  
It was when Snape saw the child in the blanket turn to him that he screamed. It was a red-eyed snake-like creature. It looked like someone had tried to transfigure it into a snake, but it had gone wrong and left the child as a half snake. But it was too late. The child removed it's blanket, and shot out at him, digging it's fangs into his arm.  
  
"Voldermort!" he exclaimed, trying to get the weakened thing off his arm, but as he tried, the other child, the silver haired boy held him down, the red pupils, almost as small as pinpricks now, staring down at him madly. He could feel the blood being sucked from his body, he could feel something cold and horrible entering his body. He struggled, but the boy had the strength of ten men. Things started to go hazy, but he could hear what they were saying.  
  
The voice of the thing, the voice he was so familiar with, Lord Voldermort's voice said, "We've found Death Eater blood here. Good and strong!"  
  
Snape wanted to call out, scream that he wasn't a Death Eater, not any more, but the pain; the pain was blocking everything from his mind. His arms were pinned down to the ground by the silver haired boy, but he couldn't. He gasped out in pain. Snape, not for the fist time in his life, though he was about to die. Memories flooded his mind, as if trying to block the pain. Memories of Hogwarts, some good, many he'd rather never think of again, memories of killing, memories of burying a body on the top of a hill, memories of tears, memories of bitter nights spent dreaming of an unattainable revenge, memories of a promised redemption, memories of times he was glad to have lost.  
  
He might have been lost himself if something hadn't toppled on top of him, pulling the silver haired boy off him. He saw a flash of Blood; a flash of silver blade, and the boy lay on the ground, panting as a dark figure, foggy from the blood loss pulled the thing off his arm. But Snape could see enough to know that whatever the thing was, it had grown to almost five foot tall, and looking more like the dark lord at the height of his power than he had ever seen.  
  
He let out a yelp, and tried to pull himself away, but his arms were weak from the blood loss. Then a gruff voice had come up to him and said gruffly, "Thank all the God's you're alive Mr Snape, because you might not be tomorrow! "  
  
Snape felt blood on his face. The man was dripping with Blood. But he felt the man lift up his arm, the one with the Dark Mark on it.  
  
"No!" he gasped, "No!"  
  
"No wonder he found you out here, with this on you. You might as well have advertised your presence here in The Prophet. " Said the voice, "We've got to get you back."  
  
"No!" Snape stammered, pain and poison getting to his brain, "Don't look at it!"  
  
The fuzzy figure sighed and said quietly, "We'll get you back."  
  
*********  
  
Everyone within earshot of the scream ran to the corridor leading to the dungeon. Sev had picked up his wand, holding it out like a muggle holds a gun, and told everyone else in the classroom to take their wands as well.  
  
He was sorely disappointed to see that half of the Slytherin common room had got here first. He shouted and pushed his way through the crowd to see MacDuff, half carrying, half leading Snape to the dungeon. There were a few shocked gasps and shouts, but Sev ignored them as he roared over the crowd, "What happened?"  
  
"I found him!" Shouted MacDuff, "He was half dead."  
  
"Get him into the dungeon!" He snapped, "Quickly!" then he turned his attention to the rest of the crowd. "The rest of you, haven't you got essays to complete? If that isn't the case I'd be more than pleased to remedy it!"  
  
At this threat, the crowd started to disperse. It was at this moment Hermione and Ron arrived, and stood next to Harry who was watching, more than a little amazed.  
  
"What happened?" Asked Hermione simply.  
  
"Yeah Harry, spill the beans!" added Ron, "Or at least tell us that Snape was involved in some sort of life threatening accident!"  
  
"Mr Weasley, am I to believe that you wish me dead?" asked a voice that was far too familiar behind him. There was a second before all of them comprehended the possible fatality of this remark, and then another second when they did. Ron turned around, very, very slowly.  
  
"No sir." He said after a full five seconds of petrified silence, "I'm glad to see that no limbs of yours have been removed."  
  
"Thank you Mr Weasley, " Sev growled in irritation, "I wish the same sentiment on you. Now, I expect you'll be leaving." The silent menace that hung off this phrase made even Hermione quiver with fright. They exchanged looks, and ran off very quickly.  
  
MacDuff came limping from the dungeon and saw Sev, observing the thinning crowd, and encouraging them to leave. "Professor.....Sev, I've taken Snape into his quarters and sent for Madam Pomfery...."  
  
"Thank you MacDuff, but I don't know if she could help. This could be very, very serious."  
  
*********  
  
Notes? Yep!  
  
1/ Sorry abut not updating fast. I'm a slow writer.  
  
2/ I sorta know that the characters in this speak as if they were in a Greek tragedy, and I am truly apologetic about that.  
  
3/ I'll try to get the next part up fast, and I know I've left you with a real cliff hanger, but bear with me!  
  
Thank you; please R and R on your way out :)  
  
Love  
  
GloomRaven - Xandra the Blue.  
  
TBC! 


	10. Snape the Dreamer

Chapter 10 - Snape the Dreamer  
  
Hi again! sorry about the lack of updates! Just block this time! But anyway, feel glad for the lack of notes, and please r and r on the way out!  
  
*********  
  
MacDuff had lain Snape on his bed in his private quarters while be brought his double in. Snape wasn't quiet sure what had happened. There had been blood, and a voice, a figure, and then he saw the hallway, the hallway to his dungeon classroom, and felt it as someone lifted him up. But now, tired, confused and thinking that he could face his death very quickly, he listened as the world seemed to turn grey black and he heard voice, although he didn't quiet understand what they were.  
  
"MacDuff, you said there was poison here, do you know from what?"  
  
"No idea, but he's in pain."  
  
"That doesn't help very much. Hold down his arm, let me examine the wound. "  
  
"No!" Snape cried out again, "Don't!"  
  
As soon as MacDuff tried to get near him Snape sat up, his head feeling as if there was ten tones of concrete against it, and hugged his arm closely to the body. "No!" he shouted again, "No body can see the mark!"  
  
His double seemed relatively unfazed by his behaviour. He simply went up to him and grabbed his arm. This surprised Snape so much that his arm went limp, and he felt back to his bed, another pang of pain almost paralysing his body. Sev simply grabbed the sleeve, and taking the blood sodden, shredded black material held it in his hand for just a second, and sighed. It pained him to lose this robe. It might not have been *his* robe in so many words, but this robe was particularly comfortable. But he ripped the sleeve off in one go, and dropped Snape's arm as if it had suddenly become a poisonous snake.  
  
"What the hell!" he hissed, stepping back from himself, "The dark mark!"  
  
Snape sighed, taking his painful arm and clenched his teeth as he felt it throb with pain. "The dark mark, " Snape repeated, his mind half conscious, "The dark mark, a mark forever...."  
  
"How could you?" sked Sev, his voice suddenly so gentle, as if he had been shocked to his very core, "how could you....."  
  
"They pay with blood, " Snape mused, feeling almost unable to move, "We all pay in blood.....at some point."  
  
Sev gasped for breath, and then took the arm again. "The wounds gone black, " he said bluntly, "Whatever got him was very poisonous. I know I'm going to regret doing this, but I have no other choice if we want him to live. There's no time to test it." Sev, his face screwing up into an expression of self-disgust and repulsion squeezed the wound, and then, as a grey poison ran out of it, placed a little of the grey poison on his finger, and licked it. He instantly reached into his pocket, brought out a black handkerchief, and spat it out.  
  
MacDuff still stood there, staring at him.  
  
"What are you looking at!" exclaimed Sev, "we need to prepare a bezoer, with a component of angel's blood berry, maybe some carnelian stone if there's anything around, I don't know what it is, but I can tell you that it's a dark poison."  
  
"There are other kinds of poison?" asked MacDuff, looking more than a little astounded.  
  
"Go!" shouted Sev, "And where on earth is that nurse?"  
  
It was as MacDuff left that Madam Pomfery entered. "Can I see the patients wound?" she asked.  
  
"No...." moaned Snape, his mind spinning around like a minnow in a whirlpool, "please, no more...."  
  
But it was to no avail. Sev, rather coldly, held out his arm for him as Madam Pomfery examined it. "He's suffering from blood loss, but it's this poison that's worrying me." She said, "I Say it's a dark poison." She said, "I haven't seen it in years, not since 'you-know-who' was around."  
  
"I've never come across it before, " admitted Sev, " can you tell what it is from looking at it?"  
  
"I don't know for sure, but it looks like something that might be used to stop blood clotting, maybe something to ....well, I mustn't think about it. All I can do is clean up the wound and try to get as much poison out of it as possible. And hope. Hope is all we can do."  
  
"There must be more!" replied Sev, " I know a doctor, a doctor who could heal this, a very good doctor...."  
  
"First of all, Mr Severus Snape, " snapped madam Pomfery, "I am certain that even your doctor wouldn't have seen this before, and secondly, does this man look in any fit state to travel to even St Mungo's, let alone to where I think you're speaking of."  
  
"True, but I know a Bezoar that might work." Said Sev, flicking some hair from his face.  
  
"Bezoar's don't work, not unless you know what type of poison it is!" Shouted Madam Pomfery, as if he had suggested giving him an aspirin, "the best it can do is not help, at worst it can kill him."  
  
"I've seen this used before, it can help a bit." Added Sev, " it should help, even a little bit."  
  
"Fine!" said Madam Pomfery, throwing her hands in the air, " if you think it will help, do it, but if you hurt him, I will be the first to make you pay."  
  
"Understood." Replied Sev, and ran out into the classroom, mishandling a spare cauldron he could mix potions in, and quickly raiding Snape's private stores. He more or less threw everything he knew he needed in, and then dumped the now full cauldron on a table.  
  
Sev could remember the instructions for this particular cure particularly well. First of all because it had been taught to him by one of the most talented Doctors in the new history of Wizardry, and it had been a very new potion at the time, and secondly because it was incredibly useful. It seemed to work on just about all poisons for reasons that he was not in the mood to remember.  
  
"MacDuff, " he shouted, forgetting what was left of his manners, "pass me that bushel of angel's blood Berry!"  
  
**********  
  
While Sev was mixing up a potion, Snape's mind has simply given up trying to stay awake and slipped away into a dream state.  
  
Snape looked around. The room had melted away long ago and had been replaced with a blue void. He couldn't tell if it were a room or a world, but it looked as if were about to stop in front of you, but it seemed to go on forever. He was on the floor, on his hands and knees, crawling like a beast. He moved slowly, as if submerged in water, but he could breathe. He looked up, and saw a woman lying on the ground, writhing in pain, breathing quickly as if she was dying. Her hair was as black as an unlit cave, and her eyes were like two dark tunnels, going on forever, ambiguous and dangerous.  
  
He sat up on his legs, and watched as she let out one last scream, and as something burst straight from her belly in a shower of blood. Snape watched, mesmerised as he saw a snake and a jaguar appear from her stomach, the snake green and silver, and the jaguar silver and black. The two of them looked at him briefly, and then slithered away, leaving a trail of blood.  
  
He found himself mesmerised, looking into the woman's eyes. On her face she wore a seductive smile, and all he could see was her eyes, smiling at him, becoming him. Finally, unknowing exactly what he was doing, he reached out to the woman, and then grabbing her by her long black hair, he kissed her. But it felt like he was devouring her, tasting her, like she were little more than a rare delicacy. He had his eyes closed, kissing her, all he could feel was warn soft skin and hair and the blood racing under her skin. But as he continued he noticed that the skin grew colder, the hair grew coarser and the blood that had lit up her skin before faded away.  
  
He opened his eyes. In his arms he held nothing but a skeleton. He let out an involuntary yelp, and dropped it. But everything had changed. He was no longer in the blue yonder, but in a tunnel. It was a tunnel he had never seen before, but as he looked down he saw that the skeleton had shattered against some train tracks. It was at this moment he heard the long whine and short, sharp blow of a train whistle. Panicking he looked up into the approaching light like a scared rabbits, and then threw himself down on the tracks, hands over his head. There was a deafening noise, the clacking of metal wheels on metal tracks, the rhythmic sound of the wheels going around, and then, then he sat up.  
  
He was sitting in the middle of the train. He saw the lights above his head flicker and dulls, lights that he hadn't seen before in his life. They weren't the gaslights he was used to, but like elongated light bulbs, fizzing and sounding as if they were about to die. There were men, sitting, reading newspapers, dressed like muggles who worked in the middle of London. But he couldn't see their faces, and suddenly he was overcome with panic. There was something biting his arm underneath his sleeve.  
  
He promptly ripped off his sleeve, and Screamed. The snake had uncoiled itself from its skull, and was biting his arm, trying to eat it. Snape, his face twisted into the very face of pure fear, grabbed at his arm, but the snake wiggled away before his fingers could even catch it, bit into his arm and went *under the skin*. Snape yelped, trying to catch it, but it was too fast, and the snake slithered its way out of his grip and bit deeply into his flesh. Snape, unthinking, ran into the next carriage. He slammed the door behind him and breathed. It was black in here; no light shone though a single crack. Snape tried to get out, but door was now locked and it mealy rattled.  
  
He saw a shadow in the darkness, a shadow moving along the walls that he couldn't quite make out, but was coming for him. He ran into the middle of the room, but the thing travelled under the floors, and finally tripped him up, making him fall to the floor. He lay on his back, trying to get back up, but he felt thousands of shadowy hands holding him down. He struggled, kicking against them, but it didn't work. He screamed, shout for them to let him go, but the just held him down harder. Then he heard a voice, a voice that boomed like a God's, but sounded a little like his own say, "C'mon, just take a bit of this....."  
  
Snape looked up and saw something hanging from the ceiling. An invisible force lowered it. When Snape saw what it was he let out a gasp of despair. It was a body. A woman's body hanging above him, blood dripping down the rope that had cut into her white neck, her long black hair dyed red with her own blood. Blood dripped down her body, finally ending up at her toes where they clung to her body before forming droplets that fell like raindrops.  
  
Snape sobbed. His mother, she was dead. She was dead, why did they hang her body like this? Wasn't her death punishment enough? Why did they have to torment him like this? He chocked out, "MOTHER!" his eyes filling with tears at the sight, "Mother!"  
  
"No, " said the echoing voice, "drink this....."  
  
Snape felt his mothers blood drip down onto his face. Oh no, they wanted him to drink her blood. His mother's blood! Snape shut his mouth and screwed his eyes shut. Then he felt the hands crawl over his face until they pinched his nose. Snape held his breath, only for a little while before he had to gasp for breath. The very second he opened his mouth there was a rush of red all around him. All he could see was the blood red and he felt it in his throat, burning his insides. He cried out again, but weakly.  
  
The red turned pink and suddenly the world was filled with a white light. He felt the snake in his arm begin to weaken, for it's bite to wane and then he had an idea. He held his arm up to the bright light. The Snake began to hiss under his skin, hiss like it was in pain. He struggled and thrashed about, but finally it bite into his skin really hard and ripped it. Snape cried out in pain, but held his arm up to the light. The Snake took one look at the light and it disappeared.  
  
Snape floated in midair for one second, feeling relieved that the snake was gone, out of his skin, out of his body before the white light turned a watery blue and Snape fell through the air, almost in slow motion, the sensation of wind agiast him slowly plummeting body until he finally landed on his back on the ground. Snape wasn't sure why he wasn't dead yet, but he knew the fall should have killed him. Snape, feeling more than a little shaky, sat up. A faint wind blew through the place, like on the moor in the Lake District. Snape's hair flew around his face as he looked around. He was back where he started. In the blue emptiness. He looked around, seeing if there was a way to escape.  
  
He stood up, his cloak whipping around his body. Snape narrowed his eyes against the wind and walked forward for reasons that he didn't know. It was like an unfightable urge that he couldn't control. He stumbled forward, the blue emptiness growing larger and larger. But as he looked harder he saw something slumped on the floor. It was black, but on closer inspection an old black cloak had been draped around it. Snape walked forward, a little faster as the wind had begun to subside. Snape trudged along, hearing the sound of tears on the wind. As he came closer he saw that it was a person under the cloak, body quivering from crying.  
  
Snape, not trusting the place he was in, walked carefully towards the person, his feet making no sound on the ground. When he was mere inches away from the figure, he pulled off the cloak. It hung in the air for just a second, but then felt off into the wind as if it were little more than a paper bag. Snape looked down. It was just a child under the cloak. Nothing bad, just a child. It was a little boy sitting cross-legged, wearing long, black robes that covered his whole body. He was leaning over something, something Snape couldn't see. He should have known better, but as if his body wasn't listening to his mind, he lent over, and tapped the child on the shoulder.  
  
The boy turned around. His long, lank, greasy hair hung around his face in a ratty way, his hook nose shadowed his thin, pale lips and he looked up at Snape with bright blue eyes. The boy turned away again, and sat looking at something in front of him. Snape looked over him. The boy, picking something up and hiding it under his robes, stood up and held his hands out in front of him, as if Snape had asked to inspect them. The hands were covered in snakebites, some of them oozing with poison, but the boy didn't even seem to notice them. He nodded at Snape, and then turned back around, taking whatever was under his robes back out again. It was a little blue ball of glass that he played with, throwing it up in the air as if it were a ball. Snape ran to catch up with the child, his footsteps echoing like they were in a large hall. As Snape caught up with the boy, the boy faltered and let out a terrified gasp. He dropped to his knees, and suddenly two, large pulsating lumps formed in his back, like beasts trying to get out of him. The glass ball rolled and bounced onward as the boy, a terrified look in his eyes, let the things grow out of his back. Snape had to step back as a pair of black feather wings burst out of his back, shards of his torn tunic flying everywhere. Snape watched the ball in the horizon, and decided that instead of staying, he would chase it. He ran, following the path of the ball as it rolled and bounced.  
  
Snape's eyes hadn't left it for a second, so it seemed odd that it stopped. Snape looked up. It was in someone's hands. Snape looked up. It was Harry Potter. Or was it. His eyes did the customary flick towards his forehead, and found that, although it looked like Harry Potter, one thing was missing. The scar. The boy held the ball in his hands, smiling faintly, resignedly. Snape suddenly found himself holding out his hand out to the boy, only to suddenly be flung back by a surge of energy and a flash of green. When Snape looked again, Harry Potter was in an hourglass, his hands up against the glass, trying to get out.  
  
Snape found himself getting up, running over to the hourglass. Harry's Scar was back, but he struggled and banged against the glass. Snape grabbed onto the hourglass, and there was another blinding flash of light. Within seconds Snape could see again, and Harry had turned into sand, trickling through the glass. Snape banged on the glass, but it trickled onwards, to the bottom, Harry slowly disintegrating.  
  
But behind the hourglass came a huge clock, like an alarm clock, but without arms and instead of the usual numbers, the words, "Elevens years, twelve years, Thirteen years." and so on until Seventeen. Then, suddenly, on the clock the dark lord appeared, and holding two flags in his hands he started to move his hands like they were the hands of the clock. Harry Slipped away as the years moved on the clock, but something strange happened. On the clock, The Dark Lord stopped at sixteen. He desperately tried to move his hand, but he couldn't. Harry stopped slipping away. Snape, for a second, though he might be safe, but then something odd happened. A silver haired youth, like the boy he had met on the field, but older looking, as if he were nineteen, came up to the dark Lord, and moved his arm for him, and kissed the hideous snake-like face.  
  
Harry started to slip away again, but he changed. Instead of Harry slipping away, it was the boy, the boy he had seen earlier, crying over his wings. On his forehead, in bold type, was the name Michael.  
  
********** Thank you for reading.  
  
TCB! 


	11. Snape the habitual

Chapter 11 - Snape the habitual  
  
Okay, first, the title is stupid; I admit that before I go any further. Second, I know a lot of people don't like OC's, but it's a good way of getting history in, and anyway, I promise to try and keep it to a minimum unless I think that it'll do the plot good. Promise. Oh, Elspeth Lupin might not get much of a cameo, but I might just go for an AU Sirius, Lupin and Lily when I get my head around it. Most definitely Lily when I get around to it.  
  
Thank you for reading so far. Feel free to read and review!  
  
**********  
  
Snape sat up with a jolt from his dream. He sat up, and looked around. He was in his quarters, in his bed, but there was something wrong, something different. He could smell smoke, wine and a meal and he could hear voices. One he recognised as his own, and, flumping back on his pillow, he realised that whatever hope he had that the arrival of his double was a bad dream was shattered. The other voice was Dumbledore's.  
  
Snape also realised that he had been changed into his nightclothes. Or at least someone's nightclothes. He wore a pair of loose fitting black Pyjama bottoms and an even looser black tee shirt. They were definitely not what he wore to bed. They were drenched in sweat, a little in blood, not to mention some other substance he couldn't identify. He threw the covers off his bed, and much to his surprise, his body wasn't enveloped by the familiar cold, but seemed somewhat warm. He sat on the edge of his bed, and put his face into his hands. He noticed that his whole body was shaking feverously.  
  
Snape decided that instead of staying here, in bed, he would get up and find out what was going on. The moment he stood up he fell over again, sending a small table near his bed (and the objects on it) flying. He let out the loudest and foulest curse he could think of, and then tried to get back up, only to fins his legs had turned to jelly, and his arms shook like columns in an earthquake. The door was flung open by his other self, who said with a little smirk, "oh, so you're awake then?"  
  
Snape gave him a dark look, and grunted something that Snape hoped was a witty and sarcastic putdown, but was more a jumble of unintelligible sounds.  
  
"You're still a bit weak from whatever poison got into your system." Replied Sev, with only understanding and a little concern in his eyes, "you should sit down, at least until you've got some strength back. " Sev helped him up. Snape was, not for the first time in his life, completely humiliated. He felt like an old bent man as Sev helped him to sit on the bed. They both sat there, for a moment, pondering certain thoughts until Sev finally spoke up and said, "You were screaming like a madman."  
  
"Hmm." Answered Snape, his skin burning red.  
  
"You screamed out a few names. Why were you screaming for Harry Potter?"  
  
"I don't know, " replied Snape, rather gruffly, "you should know."  
  
"I should, but I don't. "  
  
"Ask Dumbledore."  
  
"He asked me to ask you."  
  
"Ask Dumbledore." Stressed Snape, his black eyes full of resentment and sadness.  
  
There was an uncomfortable minute of silence. Then, Sev, as if trying again said, "You've been out all day, I had to take your classes."  
  
Snape was silent, concentrating on making the air in the room as uncomfortable as possible for his double until his words sank in. "WHAT!" he exclaimed.  
  
"I had to take your lesson's today, being the only spare hand around and all."  
  
"Oh, and I suppose being an auror makes you qualified to take over my.....lessons." slurred Snape angrily.  
  
"I wasn't intending to do this for the rest of my life!" Snapped Sev, "I don't even want to be here, I'm only here as a favour to Dumbledore. I don't even see why I should be here, trying to stop you from blowing yourselves up! I could've left you to die; I could have done that easily and in good conscience. "  
  
"No you couldn't." sneered Snape, "because you always have to play at being a hero."  
  
"Well, that explains a lot about you then!" retorted Sev, "Because you seem fond of the put-upon victim of circumstance!" and with that, Sev got up, swishing his robes theatrically. Then, as if trying to rub salt into an non- existent wound he shouted, "I wouldn't mind so much if it weren't for the fact that I knew that you didn't have to be a spineless, resentful servant of he-who-must-never-be-named!" and with that he slammed the door on him.  
  
Snape sat quietly, unmoving as the air in the room settled again. He shivered, not out of fear or the cold, but because of his illness. He sat there, practically bent double, feeling weak and confused. His head pounded as thoughts ran through his mind, thoughts of how his Double was wrong, he had to be wrong, and he was right, and some thoughts that his double might actually be right. But finally, lying back on the bed, he sighed and shut his thoughts out.  
  
**********  
  
A place a long way away physically, but remarkably close geographically, a sixteen-year-old boy sat at breakfast, playing with his food. He sat around with friends as the OWL post came, and looked out for a letter for himself. He was sorely disappointed to see none, but continued to look at the table, as if he had hardly noticed anyone else was there.  
  
The boy ripped his bred roll into increasingly smaller pieces as he listened to what everyone was saying.  
  
"Hey, listen to this!" said Ron Weasley, "You know that band, The Mongrels, well, The Prophet says that last week, at their concern their main singer, y'know, the one with the blue hair, well, he semi-transformed into a werewolf on stage at his concert."  
  
"Cool, " replied Harry Potter, shoving Bacon into his mouth, "What's The Prophet got to say on that?"  
  
"Well, they're pissed off of course." Said Ron, "saying he's corrupting our youth and so on. "  
  
"Well, it could have been dangerous!" said a second year called Elspeth Lupin.  
  
"Yeah, probably Ellie, " answered Harry, "Ron, does it say whether he took Wolfsbain during the concert?"  
  
"Nah, he claims to have taken it before." Said Ron, for once being the purveyor of the paper, "And something about what he did trying to prove that werewolves were no threat. Well, a lot of bloody good his antics did to convince us that he isn't insane."  
  
"Ron, why on earth do you read that junk? Isn't the world around us more important than whatever the lead singer of The Mongrels did last week?" scolded Hermione.  
  
"Sure it is, that's why we'll find it out later!" said Ron.  
  
Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "Ron, sometimes I think you're an idiot."  
  
"You think he is?" asked Harry jokingly, "I know he is!"  
  
Ron hit Harry on the arm and went back to reading the paper. "Oh, look at the crossword, seven down, what is a five letter word for an stupid git? I know, H-A-double R-Y. "  
  
The boy dropped his roll on his plate at this point, and rested his head on his hands. His long, greasy black hair was tucked behind his ears and his hooked nose created an impressive shadow on the table.  
  
"Hey, Michael, when you're done ripping that roll into shreds, you might want to join the world of the living." Said Hermione.  
  
"Oh, " he said, a little distractedly, "sorry, I didn't sleep much last night."  
  
"We know." Said Ron Darkly, "You were up at the crack of dawn doing an essay due in for next week."  
  
"Well, if I'm going to reach six foot I need to start early! " he protested weakly, "Anyway, I hate charms."  
  
"First of all, you've reached two foot already, and we only got the essay last period Friday, so you've almost done your essay anyway. Second, on Friday night, no one apart from you works and last of all, you don't hate charms." Said Harry, "No one else has even started that damn essay yet."  
  
"Apart from me." Interrupted Hermione, "But even I think you took it too seriously. I mean, you got up early to work on it. And today's Saturday. This is the day when we help everyone else on their homework."  
  
"You're one foot ahead of me, I've got to keep up!" he joked. They all gave him rather unimpressed looks. "Okay, I just....I just had some weird dreams last night. "  
  
"Michael Snape? Dream? Since when has a dream ever made you miss your morning lay in?" quipped Harry.  
  
Michael stuck his tongue out at Harry and replied, "since now. So, what's your dad got to say?"  
  
"Not much." Said Harry, "just that he's enjoying his Quidditch practise and that he can't say much in case any opposing teams intercept the mail."  
  
"Am I thinking opposing teams as in 'Fudge' and 'Ministry' rather than 'Bulgaria' and 'France'?" asked Michael, smiling a little.  
  
"More or less." Answered Harry.  
  
"Anything big in the paper Ron, apart from The Mongrel's stage acts?" asked Michael.  
  
"Oh, a break in at the Ministry, I'll give it to you in a minute, once I've finished reading about Mad eye Moony's reasons why we should welcome allowing the ministry to have access to our family records."  
  
"He's wrong, y'know."  
  
"Whatever Mike, "answered Ron, "and the seven letter word beginning with M for an opinionated charms obsessive is M-I-C-H-A-E-L. "  
  
"I'm more of a potion's obsessive than charms obsessive." Said Michael, leaning back in his chair, "you've known me long enough to know that."  
  
"As I said, 'whatever'."  
  
Michael's hair flopped back, revealing an angry red scar down the side of his face that he usually kept covered with hair. He'd had it as long as he could remember, but apparently he had got it when he-who-must-never-be- named had come to their house and killed his mother. He-who-must-never-be- named had come into their house, killed his mother, and had been unable to find him, but had unintentionally let a piece of furniture hit him on the head, which had left the scar. At this point a man known as Billy Berrick had come in and had managed to fight he-who-must-never-be-named to the death. Both had died in the process. But there were whispers around, and Michael had heard them a lot lately. It was common knowledge that the dark Lord had somehow managed to survive, and it was also known, although not accepted, that he had a great following from the Psyxen people. Which, in so many words meant that because Fudge had successfully lobbied to the separate education for those with Psyxen blood[1], he was one of the few Psyxen left in Hogwarts, and therefore a magnet for all discontent and trouble.  
  
Which he felt was a little unfair. After all, he was mostly wizard, and he, unlike Harry, (who although slim has the muscles for a fight) was built like a stick. He simply got beaten to pulp in any fight that he could fight without magic. Which happened to be most fights. He placed a piece of roll in his mouth, and chewed thoughtfully. At least he had a few good people on his side. Harry, his best friend most of his life, was the son of the England seeker, which instantly made him a force to be reckoned with. The Money wasn't as brilliant as everyone made out (he got paid as much as most people who worked at the ministry did) but the Potters were generous. And then Ron was his friend, well, most of the time. They were good for each other, making sure they stuck together and so on, but Michael often got the feeling that Ron didn't quiet trust him. Hermione was his study friend, siblings in arms. She didn't really care much about where he had come from, as she was almost oblivious to it. As long as he didn't disturb her when she was finishing a project. Then there was Little Elspeth Lupin. She was four years younger than them, but Harry and him had taken it upon themselves to keep an eye out for here. After all, Remus Lupin was a great friend to both of them, and Elspeth needed a helping hand from time to time. And yes, (although they did their best to make sure no one found out) she was a werewolf.  
  
Michael was almost feeling relaxed as Draco Malfoy decided to grace the Gryffindor table with his presents. Michael sat back up, and tried to look interested in Ron's conversation about The Mongrel's music as he walked past. But, unfortunately, Draco wasn't looking for a fight. He had already set his target.  
  
"Ah, Snape, good morning?"  
  
Michael ignored him.  
  
"Snape? Snaaape? Can you here me?" he drawled, "or are you deaf as well as inhuman?"  
  
"Morning Malfoy," he answered, not even bothering to look up, "what lovely insult do you have for me this morning?"  
  
Draco was a little taken aback as Michael's frankness, but carried on as his Slytherin followers watched him.  
  
"Have you seen the news this morning?"  
  
"No, I haven't. "  
  
"Well, I suppose you already know, being part Psyxen and all. We all know they were in on it."  
  
"In on what?" asked Michael, still trying to ignore him.  
  
"The break in at the ministry. Apparently one of your kind broke in and went through ministry files. I suppose they were looking of ways to bring down our world around our heads. It seems the kind of senseless act that you might do."  
  
"'Right Malfoy," said Michael, flashing his sea blue eyes at him, "you let me know when you've got an argument put together worth wasting my time on."  
  
"It's, just, well, " sighed Malfoy with mock pathos, "It was the Metaphysic's ministry they broke into. They were messing around with a new project, some sort of weapon I suppose. I mean, that's all you people are good at, isn't it? Fighting and experimenting."  
  
"Malfoy, if you're going to insult my race, at least get your facts straight." Replied Michael, a small chink in his almost impenetrable armour showing, "It's your family who're the death eaters, not mine."  
  
There was a visible intake of breath from everyone around them. The Gryffindor's looked rather shocked at Michael's inept bluntness, while the Slytherin's look mortified, as if what Michael had said had been an insult to Malfoy's family name, rather than a badge of honour.  
  
Draco Malfoy's nostrils visibly flared. His eyes widened at Michael's audacity, his sharp tongue blunted for a second. But then, as if suddenly realising that in his moment of weakness he had just hit the metaphorical jackpot, he gave the room in general a tight-lipped smile.  
  
"But at least my family is in our world, Snape."  
  
Michael suddenly looked up sharply. He stood up, the hall suddenly going quiet as Malfoy's revelation echoed around as the two blue eyes, one like ice, the other cobalt, met. They held each other's gaze, creating mild tension around themselves, before Michael whispered, in a voice so silent but so menacing that it seemed to fill the hall, "What did you say?"  
  
"My father work's at the ministry, y'know. He has a proper job, not just searching for the dead. Your mother's dead and everyone knows that your father is off his rocker...."  
  
"Wait a minute!" interrupted Harry. But Draco had already prepared his battle.  
  
"Oh, and famous Potter's not all that brilliant either. Not with the company he keeps. Mud bloods and werewolf's and crazies and not to mention his business in metaphysisis'. Maybe he thinks that they might make him a half-decent seeker."  
  
"Take that back!" Barked Harry.  
  
But Draco ignored him, and turned back to Michael, "Oh, we know what they're doing, Snape. It's just if it weren't so incredibly useful, we'd tell Fudge."  
  
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Said Michael, looking considerably agitated.  
  
"Oh, lets just say that the Snake knows what its doing." Said Draco before grinning nastily at him, and walking off.  
  
"What the hell was that comment all about?" exploded Harry at Michael, who was simply looking on in the distance, his eyes in a half-trance as his fingers began to ball up into fists.  
  
"I..... don't know." He answered, breathing out, his hands resting limply at his sides. He sat down and put his elbows on the table, made a bridge with his hands and placed his chin on it. He looked thoughtfully sideways and said, "Malfoy has it coming to him. He is going to get a fist rammed up his arse any day now."  
  
"That's not a nice though over breakfast Mike." Said Hermione, a slightly weary expression on her face, "I really could have done without it."  
  
"Bah." He replied, putting his head in his hands, "this is the kind of morning when there sickness over breakfast."  
  
"I don't want to know." Retorted Hermione, "I wouldn't want to live in your world."  
  
"Nor would I, if I had a choice." Added Michael, with a sly grin. He picked up some of his roll and ate it.  
  
**********  
  
The last line is one I use too often. It doesn't make sense, but you'll find that much of what Michael says doesn't make sense. He talks like many a weirdo I know and love. The idea for him is that he's the odd one out, but at the same time very much one of them. I don't know how that works, so thank you for reading.  
  
Sincerely  
  
Xandra the Blue. ----------------------- [1] Another thing that was much to Dumbledore's distaste. He had practically lobbied for ever student to stay, but, as usual, with a little scare mongering and a lot of court proceedings, the numbers decreased either out of parent's fear for their children, or because they had been forced out. 


	12. Snape the volatile

Chapter 12 - Snape the volatile  
  
Apologises for more OC AU chapter! Okay, by the end of this chapter I'll explain a lot of stuff about this chapter that doesn't make sense, but for the time being please just read and pretend to understand my logic, okay?  
  
**********  
  
There is a pretty autumn afternoon. The tree's still hold on to some hope of summer, but the leaves betray them, and fall lifeless and shrived to the ground. Underneath one of the trees, music is playing, which is unusual for Hogwarts grounds. If you get closer to the source of the music, you can here these words sung.  
  
"Controlling my feelings for too long  
  
Controlling my feelings for too long  
  
And forcing our darkest souls to unfold  
  
And forcing our darkest souls to unfold  
  
And pushing us into self-destruction  
  
And pushing us into self-destruction" murmured Michael Snape, lying on the ground, flat out,  
  
"And they make me  
  
Make me dream your dreams  
  
And they make me  
  
Make me scream your screams"  
  
"Michael, shut up!" interrupted Ron, "You're not helping."  
  
"I didn't say I was, " said Michael, rolling over onto his belly like a Snake, as he lowered the headphones of his charmed CD player around his neck.  
  
"Yeah, but you're pissing me off, " replied Ron, "You're meant to be helping me, not listening to music."  
  
" I've helped you Ron!" exclaimed Michael, " I've practically told you the essay! It's not that hard when you get started...."  
  
"I knew I should have asked Hermione, she's better at Dark Arts than you, and you've got an auror for a dad."  
  
"Yeah, but Hermione reads." Joked Michael, rolling his eyes, " and does work."  
  
"Are you saying Hermionie's a geek?" threatened Ron.  
  
"No, I'm just saying she works harder than me."  
  
"So, are you jealous?" sneered Ron.  
  
"No."  
  
"You are."  
  
"Bugger off Ron, you talk a load of crap at times."  
  
"So, does that mean you fancy her."  
  
"No, " replied Michael, boredly, playing with grass, "And no, it doesn't mean I'm having relations with her, it doesn't mean I'm Jealous of her, it doesn't mean I think I'm better than her, or worse than her, and no, it doesn't mean I'm gay, and no, it doesn't mean you can have my essay, " Michael looked over at him, " Ron, you do this all the bloody time. I don't see what you see between her and me. There's nothing. Absolutely nothing. As far as sexual tension goes, there's a vacuum. "  
  
Ron was quiet for a minute and asked, "Mike?"  
  
"Nuu?"  
  
"Can I ask you something personal?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Why are you so defensive all the time."  
  
"I'm not defensive, I don't have anything to defend."  
  
"But you gave me that spiel about you and Hermione. I didn't ask for it."  
  
"I think you'll find you did." He replied, sitting up and putting his music on.  
  
"No I didn't, you know I didn't, and who are those people you're listening to?"  
  
"Muse." Grunted Michael, "Muggle band. Very cool. Bough at cheap price, charmed CD player, if you watch you'll see that even Draco Malfoy's got in on the craze."  
  
Ron looked around. It was true. No one knew who started the craze, but since Michael, a natural techno whiz persuaded Harry, a natural technophobe to try it to listen to The Mongel CDs, everyone had got one. It was Odd, he reasoned, only shops witch Psyxen's ran sold charmed CD players. They weren't really charmed, but the Psyxens that had made them called themselves "the Charmed Sounds." It was simple enough to make, so Ron was surprised that no one had though about it before. The Iron and steel components wouldn't work at Hogwarts, and nor would the batteries, but otherwise they were technically sound, well, according to Michael. All they had done was replaced iron and steel with some weird alloy that Ron could remember (or pronoun) the name of and create the first "magic battery". They supplied magic to magical instruments in a more refined way than before. It was revolutionising the market.  
  
Now everyone had got into this mania. The weird sisters had a few CD's out, and of course The Mongrel's with their Album "Never mind the Fudge ups." Had been banned, but not before it had become infamous. Most adults hated the band "the Mongrels", mainly because they glorified Lycanthropy and in this time of war paranoia, the last thing people wanted to hear was the status quo questioned. Needless to say, every person in the wizarding world under the age of eighteen, and a few over that age, owned a copy. Ron, even though his mother flew into a rage at the very mention of their names in her house, had become an overnight fan.  
  
They were silent as Michael replaced his earphones, fiddled with the buttons and changed the track, lying down again. Ron went back to his essay.  
  
"Michael?"  
  
"What?" he snapped.  
  
"When's Harry's Quidditch practise over?"  
  
"I don't know, he didn't say."  
  
"Shouldn't you know? You are his friend and everything, I mean I know, or maybe you weren't listening when he told you."  
  
"Probably." Answered Michael, and sitting up reached over to his bag. He opened up the beaten up old satchel, and produced a large book out of it. Michael opened it up and said, "I can feel my skin burning. I'm not getting burned again."  
  
"You're a fricking bastard when you have sunburn."  
  
"Too right."  
  
"But you could do with a tan."  
  
"No I couldn't."  
  
"Yeah, you look like you're ill or something."  
  
"Ron, do I look like I care?"  
  
"Yeah, you look like a vampire. I mean, you do suck."  
  
"Haha," said Michael, closing the book and putting it back, "I get your point, but right now I have some transfiguration homework to finish." He said, puling a manuscript out of his bag, "does anyone know, let alone care, how to change a chair into a cheetah? And how on earth I can write three feet on the subject?"  
  
"Don't ask me, and anyway, where is Hermione?"  
  
"Library I guess. She's looking up something on the reveal charm. There're a few different forms of it, and of course, Hermione goes and looks them up. Actually, that isn't necessarily a bad idea...."  
  
"Hey, Harry!" shouted Ron, spotting Harry in the distance.  
  
"Hi guys!" he shouted back. Michael turned around. Harry, dressed in full seeker outfit, walked towards them. He was a perfect seeker. Although wiry and light, he had a lot of muscle built into his frame, his Gryffindor striped shirt clinging to his body. His expensive oval glasses were pulled up to his face. Harry had also grown a few inches recently, being almost as tall as him. He was a magnificent figure to behold, even better when you could say he was your best mate. All the girls he'd dated (briefly) had gone out with him just to say that they were an indirect friend of Potter's.  
  
Harry, dropping his beloved Firebolt to the ground, slumped down next to Ron, and asked, "Whatzup?"  
  
"Not much, how was Quidditch practise?" inquired Ron.  
  
"Fine, fine, Angelina Johnson still refuses to let me do any low dives, but apart from that, things are going fine. " Harry sighed, "Oh, and I'm going to ask if I can be Quidditch captain next year. That's it."  
  
"Hey, Cool, you have my vote." Replied Ron.  
  
"And now to start on charms." Grinned Harry tiredly, " Charms glorious charms, like candy, just not sweet or edible. " he finished with a mock- uncertainty in his voice.  
  
Michael smiled at the bad joke. "Yeah, well, Hermionie's looking up some stuff. You should probably join her. "  
  
"Yes, you should, 'cause Michael isn't being a blind bit of help." Inserted Ron.  
  
Harry gave Michael an odd look.  
  
Michael sighed and said "Ron, what the hell don't you get about that essay? It just a simple essay on the Crusious curse. Y'know, avoidance, what it is, what it does, all that kind of stuff."  
  
"Look Ron, I'll give you a hand here." Said Harry, looking over Ron's shoulder, "Look at the NEWT book on it. You just need to copy out that bit on what the long term effects are...."  
  
"Professor Dryden hates it when people do that....." Said Michael.  
  
"Look, keep your big greasy nose out of this!" shouted Ron, "You've been feck all help you stupid alien."  
  
There was a sudden tension in the air.  
  
Michael's eye twitched. "What did you call me?" he laughed angrily.  
  
"I called you a stupid alien you non-human." Said Ron, with sadistic glee, "yeah, you heard me. We all know what we should do with your type. You should be sent to a special school where you're kept separate from humans."  
  
"Ron..."hissed Harry, but he was too late. Ron was mid rant, anger that had been boiling under the surface suddenly revealing itself in the ugly light.  
  
"Yeah, All you Aliens do is take our jobs and take our lives and make us do what you people want, and you know what? You're annoying and smug, and you didn't deserve your OWL grades, 'cause everyone knows that you're kind know how to cheat on them, and you say you're human, but you're not! You're not human, you're a monster! "  
  
That was enough. Any self restrain Michael had left tore away in his blast of anger, "SO THAT'S WHAT YOU FUCKING THINK OF ME!" he screamed so loud that everyone could here it, "WELL MAYBE THE HUMAN WOULD LIKE TO KNOW WHAT THIS 'ALIEN' THINKS! YOU STUPID BIGOTED IDIOT! JUST BECAUSE I WORK YOU SAY I CHEATED! WELL, MAYBE YOU'D LIKE IT IF STUPID TWATS LIKE YOU SAID STUFF LIKE THAT ABOUT YOU BEHIND YOUR BACK, AND MAYBE YOU'D LIKE TO SPEND EVERY DAY SCARED THAT YOU MIGHT END UP AN ORPHAN! OR MAYBE YOU WOULDN'T BECAUSE YOU'RE SO *METALLY RETADED!*" Michael screamed. There wasn't any reason behind his insults, he knew that, but his mind was on fire. He had given up on reason, but everything came out, so fast that he couldn't control it any more. "MY MOTHER WAS A MONSTER! DON'T FORGET THAT YOU BASTARD! SHE DIED BECAUSE OF PEOPLE LIKE YOU, AND MY DAD MIGHT DIE AS WELL, SO DON'T GIVE ME THAT CRAP!" tears were streaming down his face, his throat scratchy and sore from the verbal dysentery that his lament had become, "SO STOP FUCKING HAVING A GO AT ME! *JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! *" And with that he stormed off, Ron practically backed up against the tree. Everyone who had been watching this scene suddenly turned back to his or her other business.  
  
Ron stood up and shouted at Michael's quickly disappearing back, "Come back here you bastard!"  
  
"Ron, shut up!" exclaimed Harry, "I think you've done enough."  
  
"Look, I wasn't the one who decided to scream everything across the field." replied Ron, "And where the hell has that cry-baby gone? I can't believe he called me a retard!"  
  
"Look, let's just go to the Library, " said Harry, "It's nothing big, when Michael calm's down, he can just apologise."  
  
"That stubborn arsehole? Apologise? Never." Snorted Ron.  
  
***********  
  
Notes!  
  
Okay, you should probably understand why Michael is Volatile now! I know I made Rom a bit of a bad guy, but he does get redeemed later! Promise!  
  
But now some explanation (that you might have picked up already, but I don't want to leave you thinking that I've completely lost the plot already)  
  
1/ This is an alternate universe - hence the swearing. This is how me and my friends speak to each other, so I'm assuming that due to the fact that they've had different social influences, they swear more.  
  
2/ Yes, I'm sorry about making Ron bad, but both him and our Ron will get redeemed, promise!  
  
3/ But to explain what the heck lead up to this. If you've read too much into the books you might believe that Ron is slightly xenophobic to other races, but it never leads to anything. Well, in this reality it has. A lot more background. As you can see, their Friendship is on tender hooks. Ron reads the papers and believes what he sees when he sees part of Michael being criticized, while Michael obviously is not guilty by association, as well as many situations are blown out of control. Ron is slowly coming to dislike Michael, mainly because he is a lot weird, (I don't want a tan!) but feels that he has a card he can use against Michael. Michael has a feeling that Ron is trying to get at him (from experience the questioning Michael received, when given on a daily basis gets really annoying!), but he doesn't know how to react, so he just does what comes naturally. Ron is a friend of Harry's, but Michael had prime position as 'best' friend, which Ron doesn't feel Michael deserves. So, of course, Ron tries to drive him away, being a threat, resulting in Michael finally cottoning on, but unable to do anything about it ignores it, but finally it comes to a head with Ron generally seen as the victor. Okay, that doesn't' make sense, but if I managed to communicate that, I'll be very happy, as it will help you understand a lot that might happen.  
  
4/ How on earth does Michael know about muse? Well, here's my explanation, which will be elaborated on. Mandatory Muggle studies lessons (but no exam) until they leave, so wizards can integrate better into muggle society (as well as learn about Psyxen history, but who's counting?). Hence he heard about them in a class, and bough the CD. More on that later.  
  
5/ Dryden - I don't know why the DADA's teacher is called that. I'll let you read into that whatever you want to read.  
  
6/ okay, if I made them sound Feminine, I'm sorry, I'm not good at writing male characters!  
  
Thank you for reading, I've been Xandra the Blue, the characters all belong to JK Rolwing except Michael, you've been a great audience and Good night! 


	13. Chapter 13 Snape the incensed

Chapter 13 - Snape the incensed  
  
Hello! Sorry this chapter is kinda short, but the next chapter will be pretty long! I know I'm an infrequent updater, but you see, I never know how long a chapter will take. I hope you don't mind this one.  
  
***********  
  
Snape opened his eyes. What the hell was going on in his mind? He was sure he'd revisited his own school days, if it hadn't been for the all-too- recent faces. His armed ached. As his pain brought him back into the realm of the living he sighed. The room was warning up in such a way that it made him edgy. He liked his rooms cold. They made him stay awake, they made him think. The heat relaxed him, made him unfocused, unaware. He stood up against his better judgement, and creeping like a child after his parents had put him to bed, walked to the door. He felt stronger than the last time he'd woken up, but his legs shook like he'd just been hexed. He was practically pulling himself along the wall, but he heard voices, voices he knew he had to find out about. People whispering about him. Well, less whispering than ranting furiously.  
  
As Snape peered out the door, he saw his other self, robes swishing magnificently, pacing up and down, black eyes almost burning with rage.  
  
"Now, Sev, do calm down." Said Professor Dumbledore, who was sitting in one of his armchairs with no self-consciousness at all.  
  
"But a Deatheater! " exploded Sev, spiting in anger, "A Death Eater! Why on earth would the man sink so low!?"  
  
"You should know better than I." Replied Dumbledore Coolly.  
  
"We're not the same man Professor, I don't know what his parents did that made him as he is, but I'm almost glad my father threw me out of the house when I was sixteen!" he snapped. Snape's thoughts suddenly stopped in their tracks of self-righteousness. When he was sixteen, well, that was his best year. The only year that he had got his fathers approval. The only time when he'd had associates. But his other self had obviously done something wrong. It was obvious that he hadn't become a death eater by the way he was shouting, but Snape's mind grew strangely curious about his doppelganger.  
  
If Professor Dumbledore had been curious he hid it well, replying with a simple, "You had different choices. You had to choose differently...."  
  
"Yes, yes, Alternate Universe theory, my actions change his actions and visa versa, but a Death Eater? What could drive a man to do that?"  
  
Snape growled under his breath. Hatred could drive you, I bet you had loads of friends and girls, thought Snape bitterly; I bet even James Potter was Jealous of you! I bet that you've had a great life, I bet your.....  
  
Snape's thoughts were interrupted by Dumbledore's voice. "Sev, I'm sure your life was very different from his. I doubt if he had the same choices as you."  
  
Sev grunted, and like an eagle coming into land sat on the other armchair. "I bet he did. I bet he was some bored rich kid who swanned through his life easily until he got a conscience. I bet he never had to wake up one morning to find his mother dead in the kitchen. She hung herself, y'know, " he said, sadly, "Couldn't take father any more. He was a cold heartless man, even worse than your professor here, even worse than how the pupil's descibe him behind his back. Father knew the spells that didn't leave marks. He also knew how weak the human mind was. I'm sure that his Father relented on him. I bet he stopped when he began to cry."  
  
He didn't, answered Snape in his head, he went on until he passed out. But he never used spells that left marks. He'd rather watch you squirm and cry for mercy than get all his rage out at once and have people ask questions. Considering how sadistic his father was, he was surprisingly cool headed. But maybe his other self was exaggerating. Maybe his alter ego's childhood had been better than his own. Maybe Mother had died later. Snape couldn't bring himself to believe that anyone else had suffered as much as he had.  
  
"Sev, I never knew...." replied Dumbledore in that sickning piteous voice that Snape knew ever human had.  
  
Enough was enough. He wasn't going to let his double spill any more secrets about him to the old man. Focring his legs along he flung open the door, metal doorknob clanging on the cold granite wall.  
  
"Of course you didn't know, " snapped Snape, looking livid, "I never told you. I don't want your pity. I don't want anyone's pity."  
  
"Oh, look who it is?" sneered Sev, his eyes narrowing as he pulled his face into a sarcastic leer.  
  
Snape walked in, pulling himself up to his full height, even though his bones felt like jelly. "Do you want to know why? Do you really want to know why?"  
  
"Yes, why don't you tell us!" exclaimed Sev, all concern for the man rushing out of him, "Why don't you let us all know what goes on in the mind of a traitor?"  
  
"I never betrayed anybody!" spat Snape, "Except the Dark Lord."  
  
"And I bet you never killed anybody either, " snapped his double, almost as if he had read his mind, "I suppose the thousands of muggles and Wizards just killed themselves!"  
  
"Oh, and you haven't killed anybody as an auror?" said Snape, suddenly feeling invincible with anger, "Or do the ministry give it another name?"  
  
"At least I was killing for the greater good! I wasn't just obeying the orders of a mad man!"  
  
Snape growled. He could think of a thousand answers to this, but he didn't want to answer him, he wanted to hurt him. He wanted to take his other self by the throat and slowly throttle him. He wanted to show his other self pain, not by Crucio, it was too simple, he wanted to show him that he could kill him by force. Instead he replied with a lot more force than his body should have let him had, "Why don't you just go back to where you came from, Snivilus....."  
  
There was total silence. Snape inwardly cheered with joy. He's performed the first damage. This other self's eye twitched. Laughing angrily he exclaimed, "What did you say?"  
  
"I called you Snivillus, Snivillus!" replied Snape, enjoying every moment of it.  
  
"Well, at least I'm not He-who-must-never-be-named's Lapdog!" Sev exploded, "did you follow him because you liked it, or because you were a coward!"  
  
Snape yelled back before Sev had even finished the sentence "Well, Snivillus, why haven't you done what you were sent here to do yet? Or frightened that you might have to die for your job!"  
  
"At least I got the job because I was qualified, not because I'd done a favor to the ministry!"  
  
"Why don't you go back to your perfect life and leave me alone!" shouted Snape, juvenilely.  
  
"Yeah, go back to your friends, " scoffed Sev, "But you can't because you betrayed them!" Snape was taken aback, but in desperate attempt to wound him further Snape said, "Looking at you, I now know why father hated me!"  
  
Sev finally dropped his bombshell, worse than Snape's Snvillus remark, worse than his remark that father hated him. He dropped it to hurt, to kill. With a half grin on his face, he said coldly and slowly, "Looking at you, I can see that you turned out just like him."  
  
Snape was beyond even this unreasonable arguing. A vein stood out on his forehead he bared his teeth, his black eyes angry. There was nothing to stop him. "LEGILIMENS!"  
  
As the spell hit his Double he saw memories, memories that he would have described as running past his eyes like a silent film if he had been adept at using muggle termlogy. He saw His father shouting at his mother, he saw himself in his room when he was fifteen, shooting down flies, he saw his mothers dead body, hanging above his head.  
  
Sev threw him out of his mind, and and suddenly Snape was hit, the sheer force of the spell forcing him backwards. "LEGILIMENS!" his double shouted.  
  
Suddenly Snape felt his own memories being dragged out of his head. He saw himself when he was sixteen getting the dark mark burned on his arm, he saw The Dark Lord disposing of Rya's body, he saw the first time he ever met Harry Potter.....He summoned the strength to shut his double out before his double could go any further. In retaliation he shouted, "LEGILIMENS!"  
  
Again, he saw his double's memories in his head. He saw himself, running into a house, the Dark Mark hanging in their air over the door. But his double shut him out before he could see more. Falling back, before his double could shout again he screamed, "LEGILIMENS!"  
  
**********  
  
Notes -  
  
1/ I'm hopefully going back on topic. But don't trust me on that point. I have an idea where I'm going, but I don't know the path and what might happen on the way there.  
  
2/ Right, Snape and Snape are at Stale mate at the moment, if no one had noticed. This rift in what little of a relationship they had is going to allow them to truly show their feelings. And probably a lot more bickering later.  
  
3/ I know a lot of Snape fans are going to have a go at me, but as I count myself among them, I'm going to try and explain my opinion. I know Snape had a bad life, but I don't think the Snape we know could ever let go of his past properly, he still sees himself as a part of it, rather than as the result of it, if that makes any sense. So as a result he cannot cope with the idea of having a past such as his and moving on. I suppose it's a little jealousy and a lot of inverse snobbery coming out (gawd, snobbery is bad enough, but inverse snobbery hurt my head.)  
  
4/ Okay, the insults they throw at each other aren't that good, I know, sorry!!!!! But I couldn't think of anything that hadn't been used before. I'm an idiot. I also kinda took a lot of ideas from that Red Dwarf episode I mentioned earlier (ME2) for the argument. It was one step away from having them shout 'Mr Gazpachio!' at each other (sorry, I can't spell the name of the cold soup I'm talking about). But I think Sev's line is quite freaky. If I'd had Snape's Dad, then I'd be adopted XD, but on a serious note, the less said the better about him.  
  
5/ There are going to be plenty of chances for us to get little snippets of background, but for now this will have to merely wet your appetite. Or something like that.  
  
Thank you for reading and getting this far! I promise this will have at least one vaguely interesting revelation to make you question my sanity! Thank you again (and reviewing me wouldn't be too bad either, but thank you all the same) Xandra the Blue. 


	14. Snape the intruded

Chapter 14 - Snape the intruded.  
  
**********  
  
Hangrid threw more wood on the fire. It was indeed and very cold night. The air stood frozen in the air, the fire thawing it out with smoke. Fang sat by it, his head on his master's feet. Hangrid had made himself a warm mug of strong tea and was enjoying it immensely, when he heard something outside. Hangrid sat up. No, he hadn't heard anything; he had felt something, a bit like a shift in the air.  
  
Hangrid ignored it, and settled down in his chair again. Hangrid listened to the crackle of the fire. It was comforting on such a cold night.....  
  
But then he heard something he couldn't ignore. It sounded like a hippogriff, but a few octaves higher and far raspier. He heard branches cracking underneath something, and the sound started again. Hangrid put down his hug quickly, and picking up his 'umbrella' on the way out, went to investigate the noise.  
  
**********  
  
The boy fell into a shallow river as he stumbled around in the dark. The things were after him. They wanted him dead. He picked himself up out of the sludge, his black hair dripping with dirty river water and waded through it as fast as he could. They were gaining on him. They screeched again, and turning around he gasped, but ran onwards, feeling in his pocket for a weapon.  
  
They pursued him, concealing themselves in shadows as he ran, gasping for breath. The boy, covered in mud, twigs in his hair and his heart beating fast enough to kill any normal human, stumbled amongst the untidy tree roots and the occasional bones. The boy, his eyes full of fear tried to see in the dark, but to no avail. The moon only lit up shadows in an eerie blue, filling his heart with more fear. He hadn't got his night sight yet, and all he wanted was to get out of the forest.  
  
As he passed a branch it cut him cruelly along his arm. The boy barely noticed it, even though it throbbed with pain, but the things that chassed him, as they passed in the light let out a loud shriek. They smelt blood. The boy quickened pace, forgetting about his blindness. He ran, his wet, dirty hair flying in the wind, his feet squelching the mud, getting into his canvas shoes. His clothes were caked in fresh mud, although some was drying on him now, but he ran, he ran in fear of his life.  
  
As a shaft of moonlight hit the things they showed their true form. They were silvery white, like ghosts, but were covered in orange sores. Their heads looked like decaying sheep's heads, flesh hanging off them, eyes missing, replaced with maggots. Long cloaks covered their body, but their hands were like rusted stickles, their rancid teeth like decedent diamonds. They let out another scream and disappeared into shadow.  
  
The boy ran, hoping that he would be saved. Then disaster struck. He fell over a tree stump that he hadn't seen and heard a crack. Pain blotted out by other pain, the boy barely noticed the blood running from his ankle, the twisted, mangled state of it, the cut going right up his leg. The things came closer, he could hear the wriggling of maggots and smelt the decaying of flesh and the rust and he felt the fear, fear hitting him, disabling him more than any wound could do.  
  
The boy turned on his back, and sitting up, whipped his wand out and screamed, most likely because his life depended on it, "STUPIFY!"  
  
He screwed his eyes shut and shouted again, hoping that against all odds that there was a chance he would live. He opened his eyes, suddenly acclimatised to the meagre light and saw that the things still rounded on him, their breath like a death rattle, and the sound of squirming larvae filling his ears. He swore he heard the soft sound of terror as they came closer. The spell had no effect. The boy, managing to stumble backwards shouted, "impervious!" and like a bolt of lightening the spell hit one of the things. But it had no effect.  
  
The boy, terrified racked his brains for help as he dragged his body along the ground, trying to get help. In his state only one spell came to mind that might help get rid of these things. It was dangerous, nearly illegal, but he had to use it. He grabbed onto a tree and pulled himself up, practically leaning on it as if it were a crutch. Then, grabbing his wand in both hands he closed his eyes and with as much force as his weak body could muster he screamed hoarsely, "LEXURICHEIF!"  
  
His eyelids burned with the warmth of the blue light, the things scream like a bird that died defending it's young, and then, like a sudden rainfall he felt warm blood fall all over his body. He opened his eyes. He was covered in warm, semi-translucent grey blood; long cloaks lay scattered on the floor like leaves, sheep skulls half buried. The boy, his heart palpitating, fell to the ground, and started to crawl, looking for a light.  
  
*********  
  
When Hangrid turned around he saw a deathly figure walking out of the Forbidden Forrest. It walked with a limp; it's left trouser leg torn and bloody. There was a glazed expression on its face, occasionally punctuated with pain. It staggered in a zigzag line, narrowing its eyes as it came close to the light of the hut. It was covered in grey goo, it's long black hair hanging in rat-tails, and it's blue eyes glassy and pained and it's face, bruised and bloodied. It staggered out of the forest, leaving a trail of mud behind it, it's clothes and skin virtually brown from the dirt. It was soaked to the skin, shivering, a truly pathetic site.  
  
"Who's there!" shouted Hangrid.  
  
The boy looked up and fell to his knees. A wild look in its eyes it tried to stumble back up, and after a third time of slipping in the mud it did, wincing every time he stood on his bad leg. He ran towards Hangrid and shouted, "Please, you've got to help me! They're after me! They're going after me, please, please, Hangrid? Hangrid, is that you? Please Hangrid, you've got to help me, get help! There could be more! Lots more!"  
  
Hangrid grabbed the boy gently by the wrist and said, "Who are ye?"  
  
"Hangrid?" asked the boy, his eyes full of incomprehension, "Hangrid, you've got to help me! They might attack the school to night!"  
  
"What are 'they', and who in Merlin's name are you?" asked Hangrid.  
  
The boy was about to speak again when he stopped, his mouth opening and shutting like a fish out of water.  
  
"Hangrid, this isn't a joke. I'm not mucking around....." He stopped, and looked at Hangrid who looked rather bemused. "You mean you really don't know?" he asked, his pale face going paper white.  
  
Hangrid shook his head.  
  
"Really?" he asked, panicking. Hangrid said nothing. The boy sighed and said, "What the hell happened to me?" he wiped his mud-encrusted hand over his dirty face and through his dirty wet hair, "I can't believe this....." the boy was quiet for a minute and said, "Could you please take me to Severus Snape please? Any of them?"  
  
Hangrid gave him a suspicious look. "Who are ye?" he repeated.  
  
The boy, trying to look as dignified as a person can when they are covered in blood, mud and are shivering from the cold wind in their drenched clothes replied, "Michael Snape."  
  
*********  
  
Snape was in Sev's mind; he was in a memory, a memory on the astronomy tower. He stood there, feeling the windless stale air on a winter night. Snape looked around. He didn't remember anything like this. He'd never snuck out after hour to the astronomy tower in his life? Why has his double here? Probably to meet Rya, he sneered to himself. He looked up into the sky, but then, he saw a figure sitting on the wall of the tower. He had long, black greasy hair, a large nose and a Slytherin uniform on, except for the red and green scarf he held in his hands, sighing. It was young Snape.  
  
Snape went to grab him by the shoulder, but his hand when through the figure. The young Snape looked miserable. No, not miserable, he looked as if his world had crumbled around him and then had been burned to ash. He looked like a boy who had seen pain. The young Snape threw the scarf on the ground angrily, and then with a sound halfway between a sob and a scream he stood up on the wall, looking up into the sky. His face flickered with fear, but sighing again the boy whispered, his voice shaking slightly," There's nothing left to do now..... " Then, extending his arms like angel wings he fell forward, off the tower...  
  
"PROTEGO!" screamed a voice. Snape was cast out of Sev's mind, falling the to floor. Then, both of them shouted at the same time "LEGIMENTS!"  
  
Both wand streams met. There is a strange phenomenon when two of the same wands meet each other. And this is what happened when they fired the spell at each other. The two wands, vibrating, we connected with a burst of bright, gold light. Neither of them could have let go, even if they had wanted to. They both roared with anger, trying to make their wand stronger, but they couldn't. But neither would back down. They both held their wands, vibrating, hate in their hearts and determination in their eyes. They wanted each other dead. Everything around them, the whole building began to vibrate! Jars began to vibrate, looking as if they might exploded, books on the walls of Snape's room began to fall off the shelves, even Dumbledore looked slightly worried. There was a loud crash as chairs fell over, and a fizz as cauldrons began to melt around the room. Glass began to shatter as they continued, intent on seeing each other dead. Neither lost eye contact. This was a game of double or nothing. Either one of them would win, or neither would. As the large candelabra in the middle of the room broke, Sev looked up, and throwing himself to the floor broke the connection.  
  
"What is it?" sneered Snape, "Scared?"  
  
"Run you idiot!" shouted Sev. Dumbledore finally intervened. He grabbed Snape by his wand hand, and pulled him out the way just as the candelabra hit the floor, candles rolling everywhere.  
  
There was an ear crushing silence as, for a good minute, Dumbledore standing as still as a statue, as if examining the air, Sev panting as he began to sit up, and Snape, burning with unspent fury.  
  
"Something's changed." rasped Sev, holding his wand out as he got up, " Just now, something's just happened. "  
  
"Stop being so stupid, " hissed Snape, "Nothings changed."  
  
Dumbledore, who had for the last few minutes been listening said, "Severus, I believe your double is right."  
  
"How can you tell?" asked Snape.  
  
"Because I can hear Hangrid and a stranger walking down the hall. " answered Dumbledore simply.  
  
Snape turned around. As he did a dark shadow appeared at the doorway. Hangrid stood in the entrance and said, "Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snapes.....I've been asked by a young man to take him here. I never seed him before, and he seemed to know me, so I'm hoping you can throw some light on it." Hangrid ushered the boy in, still covered in mud, blood and ditchwater, and stood there, least anything should happen.  
  
The boy grinned unhappily at Snape and said, "Hi, Dad."  
  
Snape felt odd for a second. He might have described it as repulsion because he was glued to the spot, or fear because his blood ran cold, or even anger was he felt so much resentment in his body, but Snape had no way to describe how he felt as he stared at the boy. He had called him dad. He had been someone's father....he didn't know whether to correct the boy, or play along.  
  
It was at this moment that Snape realised that the boy had been staring past him to Sev, standing behind him. Sev had stridden past and exclaimed, "Michael! What are you doing here, how did you get here, I wasn't told, Michael..."  
  
"Dad!" exclaimed Michael, and without thinking the shaking boy ran towards Sev and Sev, without thinking, embraced him.  
  
*********  
  
Notes? You get them in songs, and in my stories.  
  
1/ yeah, I had to get Michael into this somehow. So sue me? (Better not, because I can't afford it)  
  
2/ The Morturie - yes, the same as everyone else's nightmares, but I think that they're just as creepy as dementors. More on them later, plus they are influenced by all hooded monsters (Tolkien, Rowling or otherwise) and the Magdalines in D101 (more on that MUCH, MUCH later!)  
  
3/ Okay, explanations for why I always come up with weird spell names - I can't speak Latin, but I can speak the language of the aliens in this story (yes folks, it Does have a structure, and isn't just me hitting my head against the keyboard!) so I'm merely using the spell names they might use.  
  
4/ Why does Michael act like he's in a 1920's film when he meets Hangrid? For the life of me I don't know! Any minute now Friz Lang is going to pop out of the works :) yes, I know it's a little wrong, but that's the best I can do at the moment. Please forgive me.  
  
5/ At the start, when Snape the second came through, there was a shaking of everything, but where is it here? It happens at the same time as the two Snape's wands meet. Hence the fact that things start exploding. In GoF you will find that there were few effects to that sort of description when Harry and Voldermort duelled. They also don't fight long enough to find out who they killed. But a few, rather interesting flashbacks to my own time- line thing. I promise that I'll get around to writing them up! It's all to do with when they parted realities. (I.e., we know it couldn't have happened when Snape was eight, or when he was twenty, so it narrows it down a bit.)  
  
6/ I know, cute ending. That will be made up for as well. :). This isn't my best chapter, but I hope you can stick with me.  
  
Love and hugs -  
  
Xandra the Blue. 


	15. Snape the second

Chapter 15 - Snape the second  
  
Okay, this isn't a brilliant chapter, but it explains what is going on a bit.  
  
Thank you for reading.  
  
:)  
  
**********  
  
As Michael sat down at a wooden chair in Snape's office, he hunched his shoulders and stared at his hands, as if he had done something wrong. Dumbledore sat down at the teacher's chair as Michael let one of his hands reach up to his face, and wince. He sat up, grimacing, and placed his hands respectfully on the desk.  
  
"Thank you sir, I think you read my mind." Replied Michael.  
  
"I understand that a young man with a parent like Professor Snape would feel very uncomfortable revealing mis-doings in front of him, so I will let you tell me what happened. But only on the condition that you tell me the truth."  
  
"Thank you sir, " Michael whispered.  
  
"Now, as I was saying, will you please explain how you got here?"  
  
"Professor, I really didn't do anything wrong. I promise. " Said Michael, "I'm not a troublemaker. You see sir, I don't know where to begin...."  
  
"Begin with the bruises and work your way to this place." Said Dumbledore curtly.  
  
"The bruises are Ron's, " Michael said shortly, "he gave them to me. We had an argument today at about lunchtime, but it really escalated when I came back for dinner. I'd left Ron on his own, he'd had a go at me about something, so I left him alone so I could calm down. So I come back in the evening and...He picks another fight. I don't get it, its not like I've done anything, but anyway, I end up with a few bruises, before more or less everyone in my dorm decide to throw me out...."  
  
"In your dorm?" enquired Dumbledore.  
  
"Yeah, Ron, Semus, Dean and Neville. " Michael confirmed, "Not that Harry did more than watch. They threw me out the bloo---window! Thank Merlin for wigarduim leveosa! So, after being thrown out I walked across the fields for a bit, to calm myself down, or I might've killed Ron." Michael hissed, "I walk down to Hangrid's hut, but just as I get their I saw something in the woods, not like a centaur or anything, something human, so I went to the edge of the forest just to check out what it was. I was stupid not to suspect! I said how they go into your mind, didn't I? Well, there used to be a girl I fancied, and, well....."  
  
"Excuse me Michael, could you re-establish what you said about Ron, I'm assuming you're talking about Ron Weasley in Gryffindor. "  
  
"Yeah, prefect and all. " added Michael, "I share a dorm with him, we used to be friends, but he's decided that he doesn't like me any more. I don't even know why he doesn't like me now. Maybe because he thinks he's too good for the likes of us." He spat bitterly.  
  
"That doesn't sound like the Ron I know, if I may say."  
  
"He probably isn't. " said Michael neutrally, "but to be fair, it's desperate times. At least I know he's going to betray me now, rather than later."  
  
"Continue."  
  
Michael went a bright red. "There was a girl I liked, um, and I was stupid enough to think that she might have sneaked back onto the grounds, even though she'd been sent to The Academy." Michael shivered. He said The Academy like most people said 'on trial for Azkaban.' "She called out to me, and I followed her voice. She stood far away from me, so I couldn't quiet see her. But I knew it was her. It was her voice, her eyes that called out to me. She lured me into the wood, I couldn't stop myself, I had to follow her, find out if everything was all right. She didn't lead me far into the woods, just far enough not to bee seen if anyone came past. I called out to her, and she came up to me, and asked me how I'd been. I suppose I should have suspected something, she wore a robe so I could see nothing but her face, but as I thought she'd sneaked out she was just trying to make sure no one recognised her. I said I was fine, and asked her how she'd been, but she avoided the questions, telling me she was fine and that she'd missed me a lot. She'd wondered why I hadn't gone myself, you see, it's weird. She was a quaterblood, like me, just a quarter Psyxen, but they'd sent her away, but not me. I didn't know why either, but it a few minutes before I suspected something. Amber, the one I'd known, always talked with her hands, but this Amber barely moved hers, in fact, they were hidden under the cloak. But she kept looking at her watch, as if waiting for something. So I carefully place an arm around her shoulder, and slipped the cloak off.  
  
"It was then I realised what she was, but it was too late. It'd taken me by the arms and then threw me to what I thought was the ground, but it was more like falling into a hole. I kept falling into Darkness, unable to see what was around me, but it was like falling inside a huge clock. All I could hear around me was the sound of clocks ticking, as I fell through nothingness, almost as if every clock in the world was being wound backwards. I opened my eyes, and I saw myself falling through my past. It was weird, seeing myself at thirteen, then ten, then eight. As I fell through....the last thing I saw was my mother being killed." Michael stopped for breath, as if merely saying the last sentence has forced his to summon all his strength.  
  
Dumbledore nodded sympathetically. He gave Michael a look, allowing him to skip the details of this event, and to carry on. "And the next thing I know is that I've landed in the forbidden forest with three of 'them' on my tail, covered in mud and dirt. I managed to get them away, but I wasn't too sure what had happened. I'm not too sure now, either. " And them, looking up at Dumbledore with large, confused, childish eyes he said, "Professor, do you know why I'm here?"  
  
"I don't know." Replied Dumbledore, "But I am certain that you will find out. But do you mind if I question you further."  
  
"Not at all."  
  
"You say you are in Gryffindor...."  
  
" Might have been a Slytherin if my blood had been pure enough, " replied Michael, with surprisingly little malice, "but I obviously wasn't intelligent enough for Ravenclaw, and my brave streak was too big for Hufflepuff."  
  
"I see, and you know...."  
  
"....My father was in Slytherin? Yes, I know. But being cunning isn't a bad thing. That's something that a lot of people forget. It's halfway between intelligence and perseverance. Slytherin isn't a primary colour; it's a mixture of two houses." Replied Michael, as if he was spilling out thoughts he'd kept to himself for a long time, "but I could never devote myself to either intelligence or perseverance. The hat obviously though Gryffindor was a good decision for me."  
  
"I see." Finished Dumbledore lamely.  
  
"Can I please ask you a question Sir?" asked Michael.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Is their another me here? Because I'd like to find out if he's like me or not." Michael asked with a little hopeful enthusiasm.  
  
"Your father did not get married here, " said Dumbledore, as if he were breaking news of a death to the boy, "I'm sorry, but your mother and your father never married and never had children, I'm afraid that you don't exist....."  
  
"Oh." He said quietly, and his head slumped into his concave chest again. Then, as if brightening up he asked, "But if my mother is around....even if she's in St Mungos, anything, can I see her?"  
  
Dumbledore suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Your mother isn't....isn't alive. She was killed during the Voldermort years. " He finished, as if deciding what to tell him, "I assume, as we never found the body. But I know someone found her dead."  
  
"And my mothers parents?" he asked, as if he was desperately trying to find something, " My Mother's parents? Did they survive here? I mean, that's more than enough for me....."  
  
"I don't know, I think that they were killed as well." Said Dumbledore, "but that is enough questions tonight. Your fate will be decided in the morning. In the meantime, would you mind staying in the dungeons until we decide what we are going to do with you."  
  
"Is this one of those decisions which I have a choice in?"  
  
Dumbledore gave him a tight-lipped smile and a small chuckle. "I'm afraid not, Michael."  
  
**********  
  
The atmosphere between the two Snape's was so cold that the air could have been ice, and so uncomfortable that both squirmed from time to time, refusing to look at each other. The atmosphere was so tense that you could have cut it with a knife. Sev tapped his fingers on the mantelpiece, staring into the fire. His expression was one of sombre pensiveness, while Snape, sitting in one of the leather chairs dug his nails into the stained red finish. Snape through him a hate filled glance, which caused Sev to slow down the regular tap of fingernails against wood. He quickly looked at his double, as if he was daring himself to, and then looked back at the fire. He wouldn't dare try and catch his other selves eyes.  
  
Snape loosened his grip on the armchair, and placing one elbow onto his knee, rested his face in one hand, still managing to look angry. His hair, ungracefully tucked behind his ears, hung over his wrist, tickling it from time to time. There was no sound by the ticking of a solitary clock, and soft breathing from both of them. Finally, Snape realised, they had begun to get into silent competition in who could breathe the softest, most unheard. As he realised it was his double, he stretched his arms out into front of him, and crossing his legs, cupped his hands and put his head back in them. Then his double began the rhythmic tapping again. Snape was about to admonish him when the door to his office opened loudly, causing both of them to jump.  
  
It opened to reveal both Dumbledore and Michael, who although a good inch taller than Dumbledore in height, still looked shorter, perhaps out of reverence for him. Dumbledore, a hand placed on the boys shoulder looked at both of them with his blue eyes and said, "Sev, I have a few things to discuss with you, " Snape got up, wanting to know what was going on, but Dumbledore raised his hand and said, "no Severus, I meant your double."  
  
Sev pushed himself upright off the mantelpiece he had been leaning on, and walked past Snape, not even looking him in the eye. Before he even reached halfway across the room Dumbledore turned back to Snape and said, "Severus, could you please find a place for this boy to stay the night until His father and I decide on what should happen."  
  
Michael turned around suddenly, his bruised face suddenly making him look pitiful as his eyes almost burst out of sockets. Dumbledore gave him a sly wink, and Michael seemed to relax. As Sev crossed the room he placed a hand on his son's shoulder, pinched it gently, and gave him a small smile. Michael returned it as Sev followed Dumbledore back into Snape's office. As the door shut Michael suddenly became aware of the silent anger in the room. Choosing not to say anything, he turned around and merely waited for Snape to say something.  
  
Snape was seething with rage; it rippled under his skin like the giant squid in the lake, and could burst out at any moment. Why was this nuisance boy staring at him so dumbly? Shouldn't he be lording his achievement, like the Potter's before him had? Or maybe grinning like Young Malfoy did when he won over Potter, something that he hated, but hated less than seeing Potter being smug. Why didn't the boy at least say something to him? Or move. Or in fact do anything but stare at him?  
  
Snape looked away, and mumbled angrily, "I suppose you'll want a bed or something...."  
  
"Okay?" said Michael.  
  
Snape marched over to a wardrobe and threw the doors open before grabbing a dusty green sleeping bag and throwing it at Michael. Michael almost dropped it, but managed to keep it in his arms.  
  
"Sleep where you want, but keep out of the way of doors, my classroom, my office and most of all, out of my private rooms." He spat, at Michael stared on in amazement, "I'm sure you know what mealtimes are, and I expect you up and dressed at least half an hour before then. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
"Undeniably. " replied Michael, standing as still as a statue.  
  
"The headmaster has obviously left out some food for you, feel free to take it, but do not, under any circumstances, touch anything else in this room." He finished, "I am going to my room, any noise heard from you, and you will be sleeping in the corridor, understand."  
  
"I don't touch anything, I don't go near any doors, I don't make any noise and I get up half an hour before you." He said, giving Snape the sneaking suspicious that he was being mocked, "I understand perfectly." And with that Michael walked up to the low table in the middle of the room, rolled out the threadbare sleeping bag and sat down on top of it.  
  
Snape stood there, looking at the boy, who, taking off his shoes and socks, placing them neatly next to the end of the sleeping bag, showing no interest in the food on the table.  
  
Snape wasn't sure why, but he snapped, "Aren't you going to eat anything?"  
  
Michael looked up at him. "I thought I didn't have to. I'm not hungry."  
  
"You should. You're as thin as a rake."  
  
"So're you." He replied, as if forgetting that Snape was an object of fear.  
  
Snape growled. He sat down in one of the leather chairs, and picking up a plate of pumpkin pasties roughly thrust them at Michael. "Here." He grunted disinterestedly.  
  
Michael, still sitting on the floor, took one nervously, and broke it in two, offering half to Snape. Snape gave him one of his trademark- unimpressed stares, while Michael stared right back, his own expression inexplicably similar, yet worlds away. After a good few seconds, Michael simply put one half down on the plate, and took a small bite of the pastie, eyes not leave Snape. He stood up, and motioning towards the seat, as if asking if he could sit down. Snape gave him a cold hard stare. Michael stared back. Finally, Snape raised and eyebrow and nodded. Michael sat down on the seat, leather squeaking. He took a second bite out of the pastie while Snape decided he would ask some questions.  
  
"Which house are you in?"  
  
"Gryffindor." Michael answered, keeping his eyes on the floor as he took a seconds bite out of the pastie.  
  
Snape, although shocked, kept it to himself, trying to seem as if he didn't care.  
  
"I'm not a pureblood, " Michael explained, "So it was more or less a choice of the three other houses. My mother was a Gryffindor, which helped....."  
  
"I know how the hat works!" lied Snape, angry at having her brought up.  
  
Michael was silent, keeping his eyes to the floor. He ripped off a bit of the pastry and placed it in his mouth. Snape settled himself and forced out another question. "How did you get those bruises?"  
  
"I got them in a fight. Some people have a problem with me. Dunno why." Answered Michael, finishing off his pasty. His tone made it very clear that he wished for no more on this question.  
  
"People......used to have a problem with me when I was your age. " Muttered Snape, his head hanging as he played with his hands.  
  
Michael gave him a fleeting superficial smile and said, "It's not much of a problem."  
  
Snape fell silent. The room was filled with the sound of a clock on the mantelpiece and the faint, unintelligible whispers from Snape's office. Snape choked out, "so what's your life like, with my.....your father."  
  
"Fine. " Michael answered curtly, "no worse than any other life. My dad, well, he's okay. Like most dads, but.....He makes up for mum, being dead, but he doesn't need to. " Michael placed his hand over his scar, as if it ached for just a second, but covered it up with his long hair.  
  
Snape cursed inwardly. He wanted to find some sort of disagreement between them, maybe some sort of rift he could use to his own advantage. But, at least on the surface there was nothing. Absolutely nothing he could use. But he had to find out more, he told himself, not because he was interested to know what fate he hadn't been dealt, but to use to his advantage against them.  
  
"So how is your school?"  
  
"Fine. I'm doing well, my potions teacher is a bit evi-" Snape looked up, as if daring him to finish off the sentence. Michael didn't risk it. "He doesn't like me, but school's okay." He mumbled.  
  
**********  
  
Notes -  
  
1/ There is actually a story to go with those bruises, which will be revealed later, but all we need to know is that Ron gave them to him.  
  
2/Ah ha! Michael's description reeks of Greek tragic writing! It strikes again!  
  
3/ My own thoughts on Slytherin come out in this. Oh, and why I felt that Gryffindor was the only logical choice for him.  
  
4/ Okay, desperation to find out about the mother's side suggests, at least to me, that Sev's been hiding a few facts...Oh, and It's kind of typical Michael when he asks, 'is this one of those choice which I have a choice in.'  
  
5/ Snape, of course being angry. So what does he do? He makes life a bit more difficult for the boy. I mean, why not? But yeah, more on that later. As well as Michael being sort of cheeky, but in an underhand way.  
  
6/But again, Snape reveals he does care, in his own way. I promise we'll get a few, better moments like that later! Also my theory - no one is really sure how the hat works...  
  
7/ Sorry, It was a horrible joke on the last line, but I hade to put it in. Why? Because I'm a writer...sort of.  
  
Thank you for reading, and feel free to review! 


	16. Snape the imperative

Chapter 16 - Snape the imperative  
  
Okay, title chapter names are getting weirder by the moment, but remember, this IS Xandra the blue, so please be gentle. I also get to introduce my favourite 'new' character. He's mine, so please don't steal, but all you need to know is that he is a/ slightly mad, b/ very mad and c/ extremely slashy.  
  
I'm not going to go into anything bad without warning you, but please understand that this is my own, odd interpretation, and I do believe that Voldermort would want a lover. More on how they met later, as it is very important in understanding them.  
  
**********  
  
"Are you sure?" asked Tom, as Avekai led him up the hill.  
  
"I'm certain its here!" he said, brushing a long strand of silver hair out of his face, "I know that no one thought of taking the old place down here!"  
  
Tom looked at the silver haired boy, his red eyes gleaming with sentimentality. Avekai placed his hands on his hips, and gave him a quick kiss. "The Riddle manor." He said simply, "It's all yours."  
  
"Avekai, I can't believe you....." Tom burst out with, excited, his thin, snake-like mouth wide open with a grin. His fork-like tongue shot out for a moment, as he tasted the air, and then he hugged Avekai. "It's going to be like the way it was!" Tom said, "The time before mud bloods and muggles ruled the world!"  
  
"Hmm....." Avekai looked thoughtful, "Why are the lights on?"  
  
"I dunno, maybe the gardener still lives there?" Said Tom, "He was accused of killing my father and his bastard parents, y'know. Maybe he got off."  
  
"Maybe," replied Avekai uncertainly.  
  
"You never know, Avekai, it could be the perfect ending to a perfect night? " Tom grinned to himself, red eyes flashing.  
  
"Those Morturie should have been here earlier....."Worried Avekai, "I know they should have been."  
  
"Ave, we should have sent dementors!"  
  
"But Tom, dementors don't know when to stop! They might have brought him to us dead, and what use would that have been?"  
  
"A lot."  
  
"But Tom, think about it, if they got the other Snape alive, think about it! They wouldn't have ever seen anything like that before! They would be defenceless! There would be nothing he could do! And think about his living blood....." Avekai went' misty eyed at the thought, "Alive, you could have double the power, my sweet, double! - The very God's would worship you! And all for a little extra effort!"  
  
Avekai, resting his head on Tom's shoulder as he whispered these words into his ear, kissed him, the very act making the air around them become warm and comforting.  
  
Tom, seeming undistracted by Avekai's interference said, "Ave, I think that there might be someone in my house."  
  
"Why do you think that, my darling, "Avekai purred, kissing him again.  
  
"Because I can see someone moving in the lights." He finished.  
  
**********  
  
"Stop complaining Lucius!" rasped Lord Voldermort, "You are out of Azkaban, and there are those who'd kill for the pleasure."  
  
"Dark Lord, I was not complaining!" said Lucious Malfoy, limping, "Just wish to return to my own home...."  
  
"Quiet! Or I will set the dementors on you!" snapped Lord Voldermort. Lucius Malfoy shut up like a clam. There was a moment of quiet satisfaction before Lord Voldermort whispered, "Good. Now, Wormtail, what was I saying before Lucius interrupted me?"  
  
"You were discussing what we should do, how we should lure Harry Potter out of Hogwart's and how to punish the enemies and.....traitors."  
  
Voldermort felt his lips curl ever so slightly at the hesitation Wormtail used on the word traitors. He looked at his watery eyes, and smiling like a ventriloquists dummy, exclaimed, "yes!" the seven or so death-eaters assembled looked rather nervous as the Dark Lord, sitting on one of the half-rotting armchairs, eye's lit up and his long, claw-like hands dig into the arms of the chair. "First to go, after Harry Potter, will be his little friends, then that Idiot Dumbledore, then I'll kill the teachers and pupils of Hogwarts....except, of course, those who either join or have already joined our cause....." Voldermort gave Lucius Malfoy a questioning glance, "Like Mr Malfoy's son." Lucius looked uncomfortable, but didn't question what the Dark Lord had said, "but I want my traitor to suffer. Remember, those who catch Severus Snape alive with have an extra reward when we rule. I want to torture him, I want him to learn what really pain is like."  
  
"And then, after Hogwarts?" asked Peter smugly, his silver hand curling up into a joyous fist.  
  
"After Hogwarts, we will kill the muggles, then the mudbloods, every single on of them, after that, we shall kill all the traitors...."  
  
"Traitors!" giggles Wormtail, as if he were a little child, "Traitors to the Dark Lord."  
  
"Yes, wormtail, you were my faithful servant." humoured Voldermort, sitting up, "we shall kill all those who opposed me, all those who are traitors to our cause. Then, when we are free of the scourge......"  
  
"Scourge!" repeated Wormtail.  
  
".....To our society, then, we shall create a utopia. A Utopia of pure blood. We won't have to hide what we really are any more! And let it be known that I shall never humour a muggle, or a mudblood! I will never compromise and I shall never dirty the pure with the impure! Fudge, that silly little man, he put his own fear and hatred before the good of the public!" the other death eaters laughed, "yes, he buried his head in the sand because of his weakness! He denied my very existence!" Voldermort joined in laughing, "his foolishness allowed me to gain the strength that I need to destroy him!" he cackled, "He is an idiot!"  
  
The Deatheaters continued to laugh, not wanting to be the first one to stop. Then, Voldermort's smile disappeared, and was replaced with a dark look. The deatheaters stopped laughing immediately. "But you see, I cannot be a weak man. If I am to ignore what comes to me for my own pleasure, then I am as weak as him. But I do not, and shall not. I rate him now! Whoever places a friend above the good of our cause, that man is nothing!"  
  
It was at this point that a sound was heard from downstairs, like one of the windows being opened. "That is why I insist that all people who feel that something is stopping them from doing what I command, what is right, that they should destroy their weakness, or the person who brings it out. Then, and only then, will he know his true colours: traitor, or loyal hero."  
  
The deatheater's didn't know whether to clap, or to cry as the words, echoing in their ears, and the red eyes examined them, as if trying to see all the blemishes in their souls. There was the sound of heavy footsteps on the floor below. One deatheater emitted a squeak, sweat running down his face, behind the mask. Voldermort immediately turned on him. "So, Lynch, are you weak or strong?"  
  
Voldermort leaned towards him, so close to his face that their eyes met and their noses were but millimetres away from each other. "weakness, other people's weakness brought me down before. Are you weak Lynch?"  
  
There was no other noise in the room except the soft thud of feet on the rickety stair to the room.  
  
The deatheater tried to look away as Voldermort backed him against a wall. "Are you Lynch, " he sneered, "are you?" His red eyes burned with angry madness.  
  
"N-n-n-n...." he stuttered, the panic in his eyes visible behind the mask.  
  
"If you can't tell me, then you must be lying. Good bye Lynch." Voldermort smiled. Lynch whimpered, his whole body shaking. He let out a gasp of fear as Voldermort calmly lifted his wand. " Adava, " he said so slowly that everyone in the room felt themselves go weak at the knees, " Kedavr - "  
  
The doors behind them opened. "Stop!" demanded a powerful voice.  
  
All the death eaters scurried out of the light of the gas-lamp the other one had broken off the wall like cockroaches. Voldermort swivelled around as Lynch, half relieve, half about to die from shock, fell to the ground.  
  
"Get OUT OF MY HOUSE!" yelled Tom before he realised who he was staring at.  
  
"TREASON!" roared Voldermort as he rounded on the terrified death eaters, "WHO DID THIS! ANSWER ME NOW!"  
  
The deatheaters lie on the floor, but found that they couldn't talk. They tried to scream, but their throats were frozen, with fear and magic. Wormtail tried to speak, he tried to cough, but he rived on the floor like a beetle that had been placed on it's back in the mid-day sun, trying to scream.  
  
"Who did this!" raged Voldermort, "I want to know, right now!"  
  
"They can't speak, " purred Tom, "I've taken their voice away."  
  
"Who are you?" hissed Voldermort.  
  
"I am, " said Tom ominously, "Lord Voldermort."  
  
"Liar!" hiss Voldermort again, "I am Lord Voldermort! Attack them!" Voldermort shouted in desperation. Avekai looked him in the eye, and before even the first death eater had walked a step he hissed "perfectelous totalis." Ever death eater in the room, except Wormtail fell to the floor, as if they had all been tied.  
  
Tom was about to raise his wand, but Avekai put his gentle hand on Tom's, and whispered in his ear, "No, we can work this to our advantage."  
  
Voldermort pointed his wand at Tom's head. "Adava....." he started. Avekai, with reflects like a snake, pushed his wand away and before Voldermort knew what had happened, Avekai had managed to put him into a headlock.  
  
"Don't fire until you know what you're dealing with." He whispered, purring the warning into Voldermort's ear, "you might lose out on something."  
  
"What do you want!" spat Voldermort as he began to get ready to kill the man holding him.  
  
"We want to rule again, Voldermort." Said Tom, "We want power. We want to punish the traitorous and to kill the mudblood and muggles. We want the same as you. "  
  
Avekai loosened his grip, but only a little. "We have two choices. " he smiled, his voice like honey dripping on toast, "you can either talk this through, without using power to beat us, so we can come to an, how should I put it...arrangement, or I can snap your spine in half."  
  
"You haven't got the magic!" gasped Voldermort. It was at this point that Avekai squeezed. Voldermort let out a loud groan of pain. He could feel his vertebrae being crushed as the fey young man squeezed, he could hear the bones cracking and collapsing under the sheer physical strength. Or was it? It felt like strength, but something about it told him that it was not just muscles crushing him. It felt like the cosmos was trying to compact his spine. Voldermort let out a small shriek of pain, and then Avekai dropped him to the floor.  
  
"You have the power, my darling, but we have the key." Avekai dropped to the floor, next to him and whispered angrily "I know what it is like to suffer forever to get what you want. I know what it is like to be failed every time you get close. I know what it is like when your heritage stops people from showing even the smallest amount of humanity towards you." Then, stroking his heads as if it were a precious gem," Son of Slytherin, get up. We speak sense. Do not let your pride get before your own great wisdom."  
  
Voldermort, using Avekai's shoulder to help his stand up straight said, "I will talk." Tom gave Avekai an angry look, but Avekai mouthed something to him that Voldermort couldn't make out. Tom still looked angry, but as they went over to the chairs, sat opposite him, eyeing his double with hatred.  
  
Wormtail, panicking, ran over to his Lord and started to try and shout, but not words came out of his mouth as he cried and screamed for his Lord.  
  
"What does your rat want?" asked Tom.  
  
"I think he wants his voice back, " replied Avekai, his hands on Tom's shoulders, "Don't worry, I'll let him speak again." Avekai brought out a wand, and without a word lifted the curse he'd out on them.  
  
".....Sir, Lord, master!" shouted Wormtrail, his voice choked with hysterical sobs, "It's a trap, I'm sure of it!"  
  
"Quiet Wormtail!" snapped Voldermort, "or I shall shut your mouth permanently."  
  
Wormtail instantly fell quiet, except for his irregular sobs as he fell to the ground, muttering quietly to himself how this all looked bad.  
  
"I will not bore you with the details of how we got here, and I know you already know what we want, " spat Tom curtly, "But we wish to offer your services to you, in exchange for a few that we feel you can offer us."  
  
"Speak." Said Voldermort, " and shut up Wormtail!" he raged at the sobbing, broken man on the carpet.  
  
"First of all, when we all take over... " Said Tom.  
  
"Wait, I haven't said that you're a part of this, I don't know why I shouldn't kill you already!" shouted Voldermort.  
  
"Because you're interested, " said Avekai, his voice as gentle as a summer breeze, "and we will tell you why you should be. You have in your ranks, men of my own kind. But, as you should already know, that is like the sword of Damocles, at least with your thoughts at the moment. If you do not treat them fairly, they will kill you without a moment's thought. They want the same as you, dear Voldermort, but if you betray them, you might as well kill yourself now. " Avekai raised a silver eyebrow, "The first thing our people want is to live freely. I have decided. When we take over, you can have the entire earth, except for America, North America, when it has been freed of the human pestilence. We want to live there, and not be disturbed. You have the rest of the world for your own, and we shall never disturb you. Do you agree that this is a fair term?"  
  
"Just North America?" laughed Voldermort, "why not just take the shirt off my back!"  
  
"No, you do not understand!" said Avekai, "my people will be very useful, once I weed out the traitors, and the weakbloods!" We could do all your fighting for you; the ministry won't know what hit them! We can get into Hogwarts unnoticed, because Dumbledore does not see what a threat we truly are! Don't you understand? There would be no losses amongst death eaters! And all for one hot country...."  
  
"With fertile soil." Growled Voldermort.  
  
"But Lord, " said Avekai, genuflecting in front of Lord Voldermort, placing his head at his feet, "You have Europe! You have Africa! You have all the wonders of the world in exchange for one country! It makes sense!"  
  
Avekai looked up at him, black eyes shinning at him. Voldermort looked away, and after the longest minute in history whispered, "I agree...."  
  
"LORD!" Exclaimed Wormtail, jumping up, "He's tricking you!"  
  
Voldermort stood up and shouted, "For the last time, be quiet!" and raising his hand, hit him across the face, Voldemort's claw-like fingernails ripping into the flesh across his face. "BE QUIET!" he yelled again, as if trying to make a point.  
  
Wormtail, his face bleeding, let out a sob and tried to cover his face with the cloth of his robe, stifling his cries.  
  
Avekai walked over to Tom and said, "Go on, my Lord, I have spoken enough."  
  
Tom, his eyes burning red said, "I want equal power."  
  
"No!" hissed Voldermort.  
  
"I WILL have it!" repeated Tom, "If I don't have equal power, I will withdraw my help, and I shall tell the ministry everything. I shall go to the ministry and let them know everything about you, everything you've done, what you are going to do and how you can die."  
  
"You wouldn't." snarled Lord Voldermort, "They would kill you."  
  
Tom smiled, "But it would stop you from getting power. You see, I want this to work. I would even sacrifice everything I believe in for this to work."  
  
Voldermort smiled. "I see. But do I still have ultimate power in the event of crisis?"  
  
Tom looked at Avekai, who nodded in such a way that it made Voldermort uncomfortable. "I agree to your terms, but my own power shall never be revoked."  
  
"Except in the event of death." Said Avekai, "Only death can do your power pack apart, my lord."  
  
"I agree as well." Said Voldermort.  
  
"Our last condition is that we have Snape for ourselves."  
  
"WHAT!" shouted lord Voldermort.  
  
"What's wrong with that?" asked Avekai, "he is nothing to you, but to me.....to me he is necessary."  
  
"He betrayed me! He must be punished!"  
  
"We need him!" shouted Tom, "I need him!"  
  
"He is a disgrace to the pureblood, a disgrace to the deatheaters, and finally he is to be tortured for what he did!" shouted Voldermort.  
  
Tom and Voldermort pulled out their wands. "I'll kill you for him!" shouted Tom, "I'LL KILL YOU AND EVERYONE IN THIS ROOM FOR HIM!"  
  
"YOU ARE WEAK! HE IS MINE!" screamed Lord Voldermort. Wormtail placed his hands over his ears and began to rock on the floor, whimpering like a kicked puppy.  
  
"HE'S MINE!" shouted Tom, so loud that even Avekai shivered.  
  
"HE IS MY TROPHY!" yelled Voldermort, as if trying to out-so him.  
  
"STOP!" shouted Avekai, shaken. They both stared at him. Voldermort had obviously never told what to do before, while Tom looked shocked that Avekai had the strength to shout. Avakai shook as if he were in shock, and sighed before he said, shivering, "Please, my Lord.....he ran over to Voldermort, and did a very strange thing. He knelt down, and holding onto one knee and bowing his head to the ground he said, "please stop and consider my love, please think my Gallant one, I supplicate you.....yes, I supplicate you, please do not raise wands to each other. "  
  
"What shall you do in response?" asked Lord Voldermort.  
  
"I shall show you my gratitude?" asked Avekai.  
  
"I concede, " said the Lord, who returned to his chair. Avekai went over to Tom, and kissed his hand before vaguely massaging his hand, looking into Tom's face. Tom smiled back, and with his free hand ruffled Avekai's long, silver hair. Avakai smiled like a child who's just been told he was good, and turned around to Voldermort. He walked over to his chair, and sitting on the arm leaned over and whispered to his, "My Lord, what do you want most of all in the world?"  
  
The voice, so childlike, yet with wisdom beyond his years, like silk in his ear, but also like the roar of a big cat made Voldermort reply truthfully. "I want Harry Potter dead."  
  
Avekai sat quietly for a moment, unmoving, as if he had temporally stopped moving to give his brain extra power to solve a problem. Then, moving like water Avekai swung himself to the other side of the chair, and breathed in his ear, "I can get you Harry Potter, but you must trust me...." Voldermort looked into Avekai's face. He looked into the black eyes, and tried to find a lie in them. He found none. Voldermort smiled. Avekai smiled back, a proper, adult smile of simple pleasure.  
  
"Ah, it sounds like our visitor has come, with a guest of my own. " he said as he heard footsteps on the stairs, "I didn't know we'd find you here, Dark Lord, so I didn't think not to invite her." There was a knock at the door. Avekai leapt from the chair to the door. "Come in.," he said in a singsong manner.  
  
When the blonde haired girl walked in alone he said in a sickly sweet voice, "Ah, Ysabelle, nice to see you, I think you have a prize for me? But you're still in uniform, sit down....." The little Slytherin girl sat down, shamefaced.  
  
"Now, you should have a present for me...." Said Avekai hopefully, a smile plastered over his face.  
  
The girl, looking him in the face with equanimity, shook her head.  
  
Avekai's smile crumbled. "But surely, he couldn't have....he's just a boy....."  
  
Ysabelle nodded her head.  
  
He looked at her with hatred and hissed, "I will speak to you later." Before he turned around, his face a picture of embarrassed politeness. "I'm sorry, my Lords, that there is a slight clog in the works, but be certain that I can get you what you both want. " Avekai smiled like a cockney store- holder, and then, licking his top lip nervously said, "I am certain that I can get you both Snape, and Harry Potter."  
  
***********  
  
Notes? Yeah, well, y'know....  
  
1/ Mmmm.....I'm getting too fond of traitors, I've decided that Wormtongue was cool in LOTR, and now wormtail? I love the way I've done him, people will disagree with me on him, but...but I love it. I kinda see him as childlike, like a child suffering with Stockholm syndrome, but knows they should know better. But here I think you can see a side that isn't seen very often in the books in Wormtails character. I think if I ever get the inspiration, it would be a good idea to do a one of wormtail fic.  
  
2/ I'm am so pretentious. I quote from an edition of Antigone. Man, I love that play. 'I rate him now! Whoever places a friend above the good of our cause, that man is nothing!' was taken from Creon's speech and was closely modelled of it. I loved the energy of that darn speech (I'm talking of the Sophocles version, sorry!)  
  
3/ I don't know why, but when Tom is about to raise his wand, and Avekai whispers to him, I see that as so sweet and loving.  
  
4/The physical overcomes the magical in this chapter. Strangely philosophical, and says more about myself than I dare to mention.  
  
5/ Avekai calls everyone darling, I don't know why. He just popped into my head and smoking a cigarette he said, 'hello Darling, you're not getting rid of me you know.' It wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the thousand other characters doing that :P  
  
6/The voice I used for this chapter is somewhere between Tolkien and translated greek plays, but for the life of me, I don't know why.  
  
7/ Now, when I say North America, I don't just say that to try any annoy anyone in North America. I was thinking what place Avekai would want to have, fertile land and trees wise. I first of all considered England, but Avekai would want more land. Trust me, it was a toss up between America and Norway. I chose America to make him seem more of a threat. Anything else you can see in this is for you to make up your minds about.  
  
8/ Supplication. Again, I seem pretentious, but I promise I try not to be. If you ever Read Euripides's Medea, there is a very touching scene where Medea supplicates the king of Corinth to think of a place to go after exile. Trust me, it all ends in tears.  
  
9/ yes, she was in Slytherin. And yes, this is part of the more there is to her. Even more will be added, over time, but I think that worm tongue would be very interesting to add to. But as I said, I will explain as I go on why she sort of gets important (she has a few tasks, nothing very big, plot- wise, all that stuff lies with Severus Snape and Harry Potter.)  
  
As you can tell by the sheer volume of notes and the chapter itself, I found this most enjoyable to write. It was a nice chance, and by heck I'll take us back here. I think Voldermort is rather underused in a few fanfics, but as I said, I probably won't do much better, but I will try. Oh yeah, Voldermort, Wormtongue and Snape, why can't I just like a character like Neville? XP  
  
Only Kidding. I hope you enjoy this chapter at least as much as I did writing it, but hopefully more. And if you want to leave a review, well, that would be great. (Passes a cup of tea to all those who leave reviews) I'll just get a pot going. :S 


	17. Snape the Self Possessed

Chapter 17  
  
Snape the self-possessed  
  
Ah-ha! After a year wait, the next chapter is up! Now, okay, there is no excuse. The only excuse I have is the fact I had a lot of work, then I just got out of form. Thanks for those who reviewed me and reminded me to post! I'm working on this, and I don't see the end at the moment. I'm sorry this chapter is boring, but hey, I promise stuff is going to happen. Promise.  
  
Three hours later Michael, exhausted, had fallen asleep and was sleeping peacefully in his sleeping bag, barely noticing the harness of the cold, stone floor.  
  
Snape sat in an armchair and stared at the fire. So what had he found out about his..........double's son? Not much. They had talked for a short while, but Michael had seemed much more interested in sleep, while Snape would loved to have known everything about him. Not because he cared, Snape told himself, not to find out what he had missed out on, of course not, but out of horrified fascination, to find out how much of a brat he would have raised. To find out if there was some way he could win over his double that he hadn't seen yet.  
  
He watched the fire crackle. What did he know? Well, his double had bought himself a house in surrey, near Richmond Park, and that Rya had died when Michael was just one, at least fourteen, no, fifteen years ago. His son was an only child, which would explain why he was so annoying. Michael had said something about school, how he got nearly all 'O's' at OWL level (Michael had taken some time explaining that he hadn't slept enough before his Arithmancy exam, so he 'only got an E ' in his own words). Snape had asked him a few mores times about the bruises, but Michael refused to say more than he'd got into a fight, and that he hadn't caused it.  
  
But something was worrying him. There was something a bit off key about the boy. It might be easy to believe that the boy has passed, maybe even avoided the sultry stage that most teenagers ended being in for the majority of their teenage years, but he behaved as if he was on call, avoiding a few things. He seemed to be telling the truth, but he didn't speak of friends, but by the way he spoke, he seemed to have them. And another thing. The boy had a scar down his face. Snape has stayed dumb, but it caused a bit of speculation in his mind. It felt like his dream, or whatever it was, that he'd had. He wasn't sure what it meant; it probably meant nothing, when he thought about it. Dreams were too illogical to mean things, and anyway, trying to decipher dreams was divination, not potions. He shuddered to himself at what Professor Trelawney might say about his dream. Trelawney had the same attitude to death that Freud had with sex – the be all and end all of every problem. No, the scar wasn't even that special. It looked a bit like lightening, if you squinted your eyes and turned your head, but it was hardly as striking as Potter's scar.  
  
Another, more important thing that had been on his mind was the fact that his double, and Dumbledore had been talking for three hours. It couldn't be about the boy, could it? Of course not! But he heard the occasional raised voice, unidentifiable, but raised. Snape felt rather angry. Why was nothing ever discussed with him? He had as much right to know what was going on as his double had! Why were their secretes being kept from him? He was a grown man, not a child to be protected! Or maybe, maybe his double didn't want him to know anything, maybe he had a reason, a secret that he hadn't found out about yet, that might cause him.............Snape suddenly realised that this was part of the problem. It was like looking into a mirror, but the mirror was distorted, changed. Snape doubted he would ever find out what had changed their fates, but he wished that at least he'd have a word in his future. Dumbledore and his other self seemed to keep secrets from him all the time. He felt almost jealous, as if they were doing this purposely to make him angry. He narrowed his eyes as she stared into the fire. Well, if they............  
  
The door to the office burst open for the second time that day, and Snape stood up, turning around as casually as someone bursting to know what they had been talking about can fake. Dumbledore stepped out, while Sev stood behind him, a look of incredulous sincerity about him. Snape's lips instantly curled into an angry sneer.  
  
"Severus, please sit down, we have come to a decision. "said Dumbledore. Snape stay standing, folded his arms and stared at him with his cold back eyes.  
  
"Due to recent circumstances" Dumbledore said, as if he had just been interrupted, "both your Double and I have decided that it would be best if we went to the ministry and to complete his mission." Snape continued to stare. It sounded too good. There had to be a catch. "In the meantime, I'll have a talk to Professor McGonagall ..........."  
  
This time Snape interrupted, "What about the boy?" he exclaimed.  
  
"..........While Michael stays here and joins in lessons." Finished Dumbledore, barely breaking the flow of his words.  
  
"I'm not looking after HIS son." Snapped Snape accusingly.  
  
"Who said you would!" snapped Sev back; "I wouldn't want to leave him here with you. If it weren't that you were myself, I'd say you would be the last person I'd leave him with!"  
  
Seeing the anger in Snape's eyes, Dumbledore quickly interrupted, "Now, Severus, I'm sure you have something to do, Sev, you'll want a good nights sleep. Both of you go to bed! I'm going to see if Minerva is still awake..........."And with that he left.  
  
Both of them, still seething with anger, stared at each other until Snape reluctantly went off to his rooms and slammed his door behind him to make a point. Snape has sat down at the table and started writing angrily on someone's essay before he heard, muffled through the walls, the boy say, "left with? I don't need to be left with anyone, it's not like I'm a kid or anything!"  
  
"I though you were meant to be asleep." Said Sev.  
  
"I've been trying to, but no luck. "the boy sighed. "Dad, does that mean I have to stay here with...............him?"  
  
"Yes." Sighed Sev back, "and before you even consider trying to convince me that you should come with me, the answer is no."  
  
"Damn!" replied Michael. There was a silence before he said, "What made him so different? I mean, you're only sometimes like that."  
  
"Sometimes?" asked Sev, actually curious.  
  
"You're like that when you've had a hard day to just about everyone. Oh, and any time money is requested."  
  
Sev laughed un-amusedly. Snape found himself listening in. What a typically teenage response, he thoughts to himself, how short-sighted, didn't he know money didn't grow on trees?  
  
The boy continued. "Dad, you're fine. But Him..............I dunno, I kind've forget he isn't you, so I think I piss him off............."  
  
"Language!"  
  
The boy sighed. "Sorry Dad, but you get the idea."  
  
Sev sighed. "The stupid bastard didn't get you a bed?"  
  
Snape heard the boy give an incredulous snort. "No. He's pis.......angry enough at you now, without me here as well."  
  
"I think Dumbledore will get you something tomorrow night, and there's no more room in here, short of adding another sofa and getting rid of a few chairs............"  
  
"Dad! I'm fine!" exclaimed the boy, "I'm used to the floor, I like the floor!"  
  
"And I know staying here with him is bad, but it's only for.............."  
  
"DAD!" the boy exclaimed again, "If I can sleep in a castle with Professor Jormong in it, I can survive you............or him.............err............I think you know what I mean."  
  
There was silence between them before Sev said, "well, g'night."  
  
"Night Dad."  
  
Snape stopped writing. He wasn't too sure about that conversation, in his own mind. He was certain that Professor Jormong was a potions master, as any teacher that was despised by the Gryffindor's would be a potions master. There was something about the boy, was he being polite. He seemed polite, with a few jokes here and there, but something about his voice.............something that denoted fear? Fear? Of him? Of the school? Of the pupils? Maybe. Snape didn't know, and neither did he care. As long as the brat was kept out of his hair for the most part, he wasn't too concerned. Snape knew that unless he requested otherwise the boy would be escorted to the Gryffindor rooms tomorrow night. How could a Snape end up in Gryffindor? Ravenclaw was obviously better, even if he wasn't pureblood, but Gryffindor? A conceited, annoying, self deluded rat, that's what his son was. Snape growled to himself. If he'd had a son, he would have got into Slytherin, pureblood or not, made him a boy to be proud of. But, said a horrible voice in his head, you didn't have a child. You never wanted a child, and didn't want to stay here among children, wasn't that why you joined Lord Voldermort? You never know, your son might even be a man.  
  
Snape laughed harshly at his own thoughts, and picked up his quill before writing on someone's work, three out of twelve, five points from Gryffindor.   
  
The next morning Michael was up at five thirty in the morning. A house elf had washed the muggle clothing he wore under the school robes, which warmed his up a little in the cold dungeon. He slipped the long sleeved dark green top on over his suddenly greasy head before he threw a red flannel shirt on over the top. He wore jeans that were a little flared in the leg, but otherwise not particularly interesting. He put on the black robes with the little lion emblem on it before he slowly slipped on his black tennis shoes. Then, pulling the lace tight he knotted it into a bow and tucked it into the sides of the shoe.  
  
He tried to warm up a bit in the dungeon by rubbing his hands together, but he failed to do so. He rolled up the musty green sleeping bag and placed it on one of the chairs, until given further orders. It was about six o'clock that his father woke up. His father, more alert than the tired boy, was ready to leave in fifteen minutes, and after a brief goodbye and 'take care's, Sev left to report to Dumbledore's office.  
  
It was at least six fifty when, after a long loud swear from Snape's room he burst out, still pyjamad, just to find out the arrival of the boy hadn't been a dream. "What are you doing here!" he snapped, "Get out!"  
  
Michael didn't need a second command. He slipped off the chair and walked out quickly. Snape swore again, and grabbing various clean smelling clothes, threw them on before checking in the mirror to see if they were on straight, and went to his bathroom to shave. That boy! His mind raged, that boy! He was just sitting there! I'm late! I get enough gossip about me without being late! How could that boy be so calm without having some part in making him late!  
  
Snape suddenly realised that he was being highly irrational. It was most likely that the boy had just been waiting for his next command from him to make sure he didn't get into trouble and has little to do with Snape being late. He cut himself shaving, and swore for the third time. He waved his wand over the cut, healing it immediately.  
  
It was at this time that Michael walked down the corridor to the great hall. He felt his face. The bruises were healing a bit, now a light purple edged with yellow rather than the dark black of the night before. He probably still looked a mess but it didn't matter to him; he was simply enjoying the walk. He didn't know why, but the hall felt new again, with golden sunlight flooding the floor and walls from the tall windows above him. Maybe it was because he'd never been up this early before, and his fatigued brain was starting to wake up, but all alone it seemed almost spiritual as he walked through the hall, sunlight warming his pallid skin. He smiled to himself while he walked slowly, dreamily down the hall, his feet not making a sound on the stone floor.  
  
"Excuse me?" asked a familiar voice behind him. He turned around. It was a boy and a girl together. The girl had bushy hair and a sensible expression on her face. She wore a prefect badge next to the Gryffindor lion on her robes, but unlike a girl who looked a lot like her she had perfect teeth. But the boy, his hair was short and black, sticking up in all directions as if he had chronic bed-head and was at least three inches shorter than him. He wore a pair of taped up round glasses, most likely from the National Health Service in front of his bright green eyes. Oh, and there was a lightening shaped scar on his forehead.  
  
"Are you...........Harry Potter?" he asked.  
  
"Yes." The boy sighed resignedly. Strangely enough, Michael did not do the customary flick of the eyes to the forehead. He looked at Harry. Harry..............this Harry was weedier than he was! Well, he was shorter than the other Harry, and about as thin as Michael was. Michael only deemed himself less weedy because he was taller. Harry didn't look as if he had a single muscle on him! The glasses were not the other Harry's style, he wouldn't be seen dead in broken glasses, especially the wire rimmed NHS ones, if only because they dwarfed his face. But everything else was present and correct. This had to be the Harry he knew. Or at least thought he knew.  
  
But he had been thinking too long. Hermione decided that she would ask the first question. "Who're you?"  
  
"My name's Michael", he answered, trying to push his hair back so it looked slick rather than slightly greasy, "And I guess you're Hermione."  
  
Hermione looked slightly impressed. But only slightly. "I haven't seen you around here before, but you've got a Hogwart's robe on."  
  
"I'm new, "Michael lied, desperately trying to think of a lie, "I...........err..............I've just come from one of the...............er...............Durmstrang?"  
  
They both looked at him unbelievingly. "You don't have a Bulgarian accent." Said Hermione finally.  
  
"I like my English accent............so, I suppose you don't know where the great hall is?" he asked desperately.  
  
"Actually, you look like someone I know............" said Harry, "I'm not sure who.........maybe it's nothing."  
  
Michael was in a very sticky situation when Professor McGonagall, her feet tapping on the stone flagging grew closer to them, as if looking for someone. On spotting Michael she exclaimed, "So THIS is the Michael Snape I've heard about."  
  
Michael did his best not to cringe. Harry, if he had possessed less self control (which after living with the Dursley's he'd have to) would have fallen backwards and tried to fashion a cross from anything he could find. Hermione looked reasonably shocked while Harry just stared at Michael, who apart from turning as red as a beetroot, started to look like Snape.  
  
Looking at the ground he mumbled, "Yes professor."  
  
"Why didn't you go to my office?" she demanded.  
  
"Sorry Professor, I didn't get the message."  
  
Professor McGonagall tutted, rolled her eyes and sighed. "Well, as I've found you, you should come to my office. "Michael was about to do as she said when she barked, "Granger! I want you in my office as well! Potter, could you send a message to Ron, telling him to be in my office as soon as possible."  
  
"Err...........all right?" said Harry, looking scared.  
  
"Now, you two, my office!" She barked as Draco walked past.  
  
When they were out of sight and Harry had left to find Ron (who had decided to oversleep that morning) Draco quipped to one of his followers, "Hermione Granger? In trouble? About time the filthy mud blood! What did she do? Sneak in a squib?"  
  
1/ - I stuck with what I know. I live in one of the most beautiful parts of London (i.e Richmond – Richard E Grant lives their! I've just never seen him!), and as I see some people around their in the near future, I decided that it was a good place to base it, especially as, technically, If Privit Drive exists, Richmond isn't actually all that far from it.  
  
2/ Michael's lie about Durmstrang – well, it made me laugh when I was thinking of it, but on paper it doesn't look as good without the confused face and hand signals.  
  
3/ Ahh.........a joke about someone making a cross – sacrilitious.  
  
4/ "What did she do? Sneak in a squib?" This line cracks me up, even now. Imagine it in a John-Cleese type voice, like he was declaring that it wasa in fact a dead parrot. Why I am telling you this is beyond me.  
  
Hopefully I'll start to update sooner, but be aware, I've picked up this story in the middle of my AS exams, so I might not update very fast for the next few weeks. After that, I'm never going near a piece of work ever again. 


	18. Snape the Pugnatious

Chapter 18 - Snape the Antagonised.  
  
Hi again! Ah, chapter 18, been ages since I last updated, but I'm starting this all up again, so yeah, here I am! Seen PoA, which kicked serious ass. Makes me want to put a bit more magic into the story. Damn me and my lack of magic!  
  
In the safely of her office, Professor McGonagall sighed again and motioning for them to sit down looked out of the window of her office over the grounds. Then, as if unsure how to start she coughed and said, "So, you're related to...........Professor Snape."  
  
"Sort of." Said Michael. The look on Hermionie's face of betray caused Michael to stammer, "n-not really. I don't really know Professor Snape, he just looks like..........er..........."  
  
"I think I know what you mean." She said, resting her knuckles on the windowsill. "Dumbledore has told me all the details, so if you have any questions, please ask them now. "  
  
There was a brief moment of silence while Michael coughed again, looking down at the floor. Hermione suddenly became very interested in the wall. The silence was deafening. Professor McGonagall sought to have it leave her office as soon as possible so it could be replaced with the usual silence her room offered. It was a good minute before Michael asked, "Will anyone know who I am?"  
  
"Not unless you plan to tell anyone" replied Professor McGonagall, "But for the moment your surname will be Lloyd."  
  
"Thank you Professor. "he smiled briefly. Then there was a pause before he asked, "Professor Mc Gonagall, I'm taking Charms, Transfiguration, Potions and Defence against darks arts, do you think you could give me a time table for these subjects?"  
  
"Oh, I'm taking them as well." Interrupted Hermione, "I could show you where they are."  
  
"Okay, I was just checking the time table." Interrupted Michael.  
  
"As I was saying," Barged in Professor McGonagall, feeling a bit put out by the short banter of the two adolescences, "I have told the two prefects for your year to escort you around school until your presence is ignored."  
  
"Okay." Said Michael, a little suspiciously, but fell silent.  
  
"Professor, "asked Hermione, "Why IS Professor Snape's son here?"  
  
"I am NOT that miserable old..........man's son!" interjected Michael.  
  
"Hermione, I cannot tell you just now, under Dumbledore's orders, but if Michael is so inclined, he may try to explain." Replied Professor McGonagall, casting a blaming look at Michael. He kept quiet, looking at his knees. The uncomfortable silent filled the room until a short sharp knock at the door woke everyone up.  
  
"Come in" Orders Professor McGonagall, obviously pleased to find an excuse to break the silence.  
  
Ron stumbled into the room, prefect badge unpolished for the second week in a row, his red hair combed hurriedly as he reached the room, the winding tracks still obvious in the hair and an odd grin on his face. "Erm............." Ron said nothing, but he looked Michael in the face.  
  
Michael was almost seething with badly disguised fury. His pallid face turned an interesting beetroot red, his teeth gritted as one might grit their teeth upon facing an enemy who you must be polite to and hissed" YOU!"  
  
Ron was taken aback. Straightening up from his customary slump he looked at Hermione and Professor McGonagall before saying, "Excuse me, have I missed something here?"  
  
"No, "replied Michael in a voice so silently menacing that it sent a shiver down Ron's spin, "I don't think you've ever missed a trick in your life."  
  
"This is Michael, Michael............."  
  
"...........Lloyd, "finished Hermione, who had a greater grasp that the professor of her friend's attitudes towards Snapes, "He just came to this school, in Gryffindor, us prefects, we show him around, but right now I think he might like to join us for breakfast, so it would be a good idea to leave right now and go the great hall." She said, practically shoving Ron out of the doorway.  
  
"Any explanations on the agenda?" he asked in his vain attempt to resist Hermione.  
  
"No, "she replied curtly as she pushed him out into the corridor, followed by a sultry looking Snape. They closed the door behind themselves very quickly before Ron spluttered, "Who the hell are you!?"  
  
"Michael Sn – Lloyd, "snapped Michael quickly, "So, who are you?"  
  
"I'm Ron Weasly, Michael SnLloyd, and I'm a prefect."  
  
"I guessed as much," sneered Michael, using a tight-lipped smile reminiscent of a certain potions master.  
  
"What the hell happened to your face?" asked Ron bluntly.  
  
"I got in a fight, you'd know all about fights, wouldn't you?" retorted Michael, "Anyway, I need to go down to the infirmary this morning, so I'll see you later."  
  
Michael was about to walk away when Ron grabbed him by the shoulder and said, "Look, there's something weird going on, and I don't know what it is, but you don't know where the infirmary is!"  
  
"Look, why don't you take him?" asked Hermione.  
  
"And miss breakfast why don't I?" added Ron.  
  
"Oh yes, your precious breakfast, "growled Michael.  
  
"Keep out of this!" Snarled Ron.  
  
"No, why don't I continue?" Michael answered back.  
  
"I'd give you a detention if I knew who the hell you were!"  
  
"I know you better than you know yourself."  
  
"Don't tell me, you're a divinations freak."  
  
"Better than just being a red haired................"  
  
"Guys?" asked a voice. Everyone turned around. Harry, who had been waiting outside the office since he had summoned Ron to go there, was sitting on a handy bench. Everyone suddenly turned quiet. Michael and Ron swapped evils, but that evil was nothing next to the face Michael pulled at the sight of the boy who lived. It was somewhere between disgust and fury, but it was not a look that anyone would like to be on the receiving end of if they could help it, even though the look couldn't do anything to them.  
  
"Oh, look, Mr 'I'm famous' Potter." Slurred Michael, "what do you want from me now?"  
  
"I was just saying that I'd take you down to the infirmary." Said Harry Coldly.  
  
"No, I'll go myself, I know my way around." Michael hissed before running off.  
  
There was a moment's silence before Harry said, "What the hell was that all about?"  
  
"What is that guy's problem with me?" exclaimed Ron.  
  
"Why is he here?" asked Hermione ponderously.  
  
"Hermione, that's not important, I mean, what is his problem with me?" reproached Ron.  
  
"Well, think about it, yes, even you Ron, he has bruises on his face, he looks like Snape's son, but he isn't............sort of. The only conclusion I can come up with is..........."  
  
"Wait, wait, wait.............." interrupted Ron, "What did you say about him being Snape's son............."  
  
"Didn't Hermione say mate?" asked Harry, "He's Snape's son."  
  
"WHAT!" Ron exclaimed, his eyes bulging out of their sockets, "Snape's...............son?"  
  
"Err, yeah, sort of............" said Hermione sheepishly.  
  
Ron dropped to the floor, and making a cross from his fingers, held them up to where Michael had run off.  
  
"Oh, don't be so melodramatic, "scolded Hermione.  
  
"Begone, foul creature, from the dark pits from whence you came!" Ron said in a loud booming voice, "I need a young priest and an old priest." Then Ron burst out laughing. "Oh, and a hairdresser wouldn't go a miss!" he giggled hysterically.  
  
Harry burst out into a fit of laughter. The two boys laughed cruelly while Harry helped Ron up. Hermione looked on disapprovingly.  
  
"Lighten up Herm, "said Ron, "you looked just like Snape just there."  
  
"Ron, do you want to hear my conclusion or not?" said Hermione haughtily.  
  
"Sure, yeah, fine." Chocked Ron, still in a fit of laughter.  
  
"He isn't from around here.........."  
  
"Look, its point out the obvious girl!" shouted Harry, before they both start to laugh again.  
  
"I give up" Snapped Hermione, before he stormed off, "If you want me before lessons, I'll be in the library!"  
  
She didn't get an answer. When Hermione has disappeared from sight Harry turned to Ron and said, "Breakfast sounds good, doesn't it?"  
  
"Yeah." Answered Ron, before going to the great hall.  
  
Snape entered the hall, and contrary to his usual tradition of walking as far away from the pupil tables as possible, he found himself scouting the Gryffindor table. He admonished himself on the inside, but he wanted to make sure the boy was all right. Well, what he meant was that he had made it to the great hall.  
  
Much to his surprise he found that he wasn't there. Snape walked along the Gryffindor table, glaring at every single face, which shrunk back in fear, but still to no avail. He was surprised himself not to find the boy there, he seemed..........well, he didn't really seem anything. It was like the boy was a ghost everyone could see and understand, but he couldn't. No, that wasn't right..............Snape glared at Harry Potter and Ron Weasley who were laughing about something. The mere sound of their voices was like nails on a chalkboard for him, so if he could do anything to stop them, he would.  
  
It was then it hit him. Someone was missing. It was that smart aleck Granger. Snape thought no more it, and took his usual place at the table. He sat hunched over a goblet of pumpkin juice, trying not to let anyone see his face, or indeed, notice him in any way. He, for the last time, looked over the Gryffindor table, straining to see that boy. But even now, as he looked, he couldn't.  
  
Snape was interrupted as a calm and introverted voice said, "What're looking for?"  
  
Snape almost jumped, but managed to look somewhat collected. "I..........don't know what you mean."  
  
"That means you are looking for someone." Replied MacDuff, extremely irritatingly.  
  
Snape wondered what might be the politest way to tell MacDuff to leave him alone and stick his curious nose into a meat grinder. Snape couldn't think of one, so he merely replied, "A professor, even one at Hogwarts, can observe their students at a distance. I am looking for nothing, but you obviously are." Snape managed to stop himself from finishing his sentence – you're obviously looking for trouble.  
  
"My apologises Professor Snape, I was obviously mistaken. You looked somewhat friendly this morning; I didn't account for the fact you wouldn't be."  
  
Snape threw MacDuff the most condescending grin he could and sneered, "It's a mistake not often made."  
  
As MacDuff turned away, Snape stared down into his glass, waited for a house-elf to serve him his usual breakfast of Museli and suddenly thought, if That Boy's not here, where is he?  
  
1/ Okay, so the Michael Sn-Lloyd joke was awful. Sorry, I couldn't resist.  
  
2/ Ah, the pettiness of Ron and Michael's argument. It reminds me of all the good times. Seriously, I thought it was quiet good. It's just randomly petty.  
  
3/ Ah-ha, misunderstanding, the basis of just about every Greek Tragedy. As you can guess, Harry thinks Michael is refereeing to his scar, Michael thinks he's referring to Harry Potter's seeker father, Harry gets serious pissed off over people giving him hastle over his scar, Michael gets pissed off at the rich-boy. Yes, it's simple, doesn't need explaining and somewhat predictable, but it should be interesting.  
  
4/ The "I need a young priest and an old priest" is a line from the Exorcist, and Autin Power's two. It was also a line I was obsessed with at the time of writing. I had to get it in somewhere. I also think that the line is just too cool.  
  
5/ Ah, antagonism, the best way to end, start and middle a chapter. Can't wait until next time – please leave a review, I'd be grateful!  
  
Love Xandra the blue  
  
GloomRaven. 


	19. Snape the Misrepresented

Chapter 19 – Snape the misrepresented

I apologise for the lateness of this chapter – I have written a lot further ahead, but please be patient with me. This time I'm doing A-levels to get in Oxford university (I'm not lying, although it sounds a bit like one) so my studies are my priority, however, this is second on my ajenda, and studying is only top because………well………Oxford Uni!

Thanks everyone who has reviewed me. Oh, and keep your eye out for that other Snape clone story (I'll put the link in the next chapter), it's a different slant on the same idea, which I think is quiet healthy!

As Michael walked into the library, looking around, he began to regret shouting at Harry and Ron. Michael was very sure that they were in the wrong, he knew it, but he also knew that they didn't have a clue. He had just come from the infirmary and his bruises had been healed after a relatively quick (though complicated) spell, well, between mutterings from madam Pomfery about boys and their Quidditch. Michael made a point not to say anything on the subject, but as he walked down to his regular place in the Library, he thought about Harry and Ron, the ones here.

They didn't know what had happened. They didn't know why he was angry. All they knew was that he was the son of the miserable git who taught potions. "Well, " he mused out loud to himself as he plonked himself on a table out of the librarian's sight and next to a large window, "one things for certain; I certainly know how to burn my bridges."

He reached behind his head for a book on N.E.W.T potions which he had almost learned off by heart, and as he put it on the table, would have started reading it if it hadn't been for the fact he had only just realised there was a girl sitting opposite him.

Hermione put down her own book on unusual potion theories as she started into his face.

"I-I-I-I-i'm sorry……….." Michael stuttered stupidly, "I didn't………."

"Michael Snape, " she said, feeling the words in her mouth as if they were an unusual fruit. Michael got up to leave, when she said quietly, "Wait!"

"What?" he asked, "Don't you hate me?"

"No. Not yet." Hermione answered him.

Michael sat down very carefully. He put his hands on his potions book, and looking out of the window.

Hermione looked in the opposite direction for a moment before she coughed and looking directly at Michael's wondering face asked, "Why are you here?"

"That's a bit deep." Michael replied emotionlessly. "I don't know, " he answered with a sigh, "to be honest, the only reason I'm here is because I'm a bloody fool."

"That makes sense, "Hermione laughed quietly, "I wish Ron could be as honest about things as that."

At the mention of Ron's name, Hermione noticed the way Michael's shoulders hunched, and pretended to be concentrating on the text in front of him. Everything about his face and his stance told Hermione that the conversation was over, but she had barely begun. "What IS your problem with him, anyway?"

"His problem is that he's a bloody fool, all right?" he snapped, slamming his book closed. Michael suddenly realised that everyone in the library was staring at him. He let go of the book between his palms, smiled sheepishly, apologising generally, and let it fall open at a page about an anti-mind control potion.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I knew it went deep."

"How can you tell?" Michael exclaimed, slight sarcastically, "I only said one sentence!"

"Trust me on this, as a woman I was blessed with the power to know what a person feels by merely the way they speak a sentence. Especially if said person has an emotional capacity greater than that of a tea spoon."

Michael replied by raising his eyebrow in such a way that the term sarcasm couldn't quiet describe. Then, with a small sign he whispered, "It's nothing. Just some things done and some things said that can't quiet be forgiven."

"That doesn't sound like the Ron I know."

"True, but until recently, I wouldn't have thought of the Ron I knew like that." Then Michael did something very odd. He flashed Hermione an extremely brief smile. It was twisted, like The Potion masters own contorted grin, but instead of the usual sneer that it usually carried, there was a sense of actual emotion other than frustrated rage behind it. It wasn't a nice smile, in the traditional sense, his teeth were slightly yellowed and imperfect, but it was a smile that could intrigue a mind.

"Look, just tell me, and I'll at least stop asking about it. " Hermione whispered back nonchalantly.

"Maybe, maybe during charms. " Michael mused, looking at the clock behind Hermionie's head and putting the book back into the shelf behind him. Hermione turned around, and looking at the clock gasped and shoved her book into her bag, leaning on her chair. She grabbed it by its well-worn handles as she began to half-run, half-walk out of the library. Michael followed her outside, running at the same pace.

Ron threw down his bag on the floor and hissed at Harry, "Woah, Harry, things are getting really weird. We're here before anyone else. Including Hermione. That just doesn't happen."

"Maybe that Snape guy's kidnapped her?" Harry said jokingly.

"Yeah, taken her off to the hole in the ground he crawled out of and is forcing her to find a cure for his hair." Ron sneered. Harry laughed with him, still a little sore from this morning. The greasy haired git just lashed out at him for no reason, except for the fact he was The Boy Who Lived. Harry hated it when people, especially stupid Slytherins like Draco Malfoy and idiots like, Mitchell, Miles, Miguel or whatever his name was, thought just because he had his family wiped out by the Dark Lord and his childhood ruined by the Dursley's he thought he was better than them. Harry should have known better than to let it get to him – he dealt with twunts like that every day, but when that bigoted opinion left his mouth, it was like the first time he'd ever dealt with it in that potions room, all over again. Maybe it was the subtle nuances of Snape's voice and Snape's face that reminded him of the first time Snape had spat out the insult like a poisonous grass Snake. It hadn't even touched him at the time, but now the words were burning in his mind, almost as if the scene had been branded into his minds eye, fated to repeat itself over and over and over again for the rest of eternity. And the frustration was building, slowly, like a plugged up volcano and he knew that just one thing would set him off……….

"'Miss Granger, what an appalling potion!'" said Ron in a Falsetto Snape/weirdo accent, "'it's barely removed the first later of dirt!'"

Harry laughed cruelly, Ron's joke fuelling his righteous rage. It felt good that at least someone, even better so Ron, was on his side for this one. Harry barely looked at the slow, unwilling trickle of pupils who walked through the door, talking about a rumour from a fourth year, which suggested that one of the female teachers was having an affair with Professor MacDuff, while a couple of girls went weak at the knee's at the mention of his name, claiming that they had ownership over him because he had given them 47 out of 50 on various essays.

"Seriously, where is Hermione, "said Ron, "she's going to be late for the first time in, well, six years?"

Harry looked at the space next to him, which was heavy with an almost solid expectancy. Where could she be? Shouldn't she be trying to lose that Snape guy? She couldn't possibly like him. That boy was just……….Snape. That's all you needed to know. Harry was about to get up and look for her when he saw a flushed Hermione rush down the steps to her place next to Harry, practically crash-landing into her seat.

"DidImissanything, where'sprofessorFlitwick, hasthelessonstarted?" she shouted breathlessly as she grabbed her books and parchment out of her bag with zeal.

"First of all, no, second, don't know, lastly, where the heck have you been?" asked Ron, "you being late, well, it's like when you see a grim, it's an omen of bad times."

Hermionie rolled her eyes. "Ron, Grims don't exist, we found that out in the third year, you of all people should know that and I am technically not late if the lesson hasn't started."

"Where's that creep with the issues?" asked Harry. Before Hermionie could answer, Harry turned around to see him standing next to the door, blue eyes staring at him with a look of inquisitive rage, his hair hanging around his face like shadows. Seeing that Harry had spotted him he turned away, like one might if you didn't want to provoke an angry dog and slunk off to the back row, which was surprisingly unoccupied. Harry saw Michael flash him a look of envious hatred before he slowly took some parchment out of his pocket and put it on the table, as if it was some sort of challenge.

"Ron, I really think you're judging him before you know him." Hermione said.

Harry turned back around to see Ron reply, "I don't care, it wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't so………nasty, but he's a Snape. Snape equals bad, therefore by the rules of genetics dictate that he can't be worth getting to know for any other reason that informing the ministry of You-Know-Who……….."

"Who said he was with You-know-who?" said Hermione, frustrated, "Why would he be with You-Know-Who? Even Snape isn't with - Him………"

"………now, Hermione, now, He used to be……….."

Ron was cut short by Professor Flitwick rushing into class in a flurry of parchment and blue robes. "Sorry I'm late class, "said Professor Flitwick, hurrying in, "I had to sort out some Hufflepuff's giving a hard time to a Slytherin. In all my years I've never seen a Hufflepuff gang up on a younger pupil, especially a little girl……….."

"I have, "said Harry bitterly to Ron, who gave him a sympathetic, understanding glance.

"……….but today, if Mr Potter and Mr Weasley don't mind me interrupting them, we will be learning the Charm for the multiplication of inanimate objects today, now, for five house points, can anyone tell me why you would not use a charm like this on a living object?"

The class, still half asleep, stared at him blankly. Two hands shot up, Hermione's, rather over enthusiastically and Michael's, hesitantly, but unable to stop himself. Professor Flitwick peered around the classroom like he was focusing on a badly pixilated image. "Anyone? Apart from Miss Granger?"

It was at this moment he noticed Michael's nervous hand hovering in the air. "Ah, yes………you're the new boy that I've heard about. Your name………"

"Er, Michael, Lloyd sir."

"Lloyd my green………." Hissed Ron to Harry, nudging him in the ribs. Harry smirked back.

"Ah, yes, Mr Lloyd," said Flitwick, with a very unsubtle wink towards the boy, " welcome to our class, you haven't missed too much work this term, but you may want to borrow some-one else's book to catch up on work………"

"Don't worry Sir, I think I've got all my notes already." He said, as if he disbelieved his very words.

"But I digress, why are their separate charms for animate and inanimate objects?"

"Because………animate objects are more complex………and using a less powerful charm would either not complete the charm, or would damage the cell structure of both the original and the copy, causing mutation, warping of copies or death of both." He said, as if he had learned the answer off by heart, but was desperately trying to make it sound as if he hadn't.

"Did you understand a word of that?" asked Harry.

"He's obviously reading it out of the book." Said Ron as loudly as he could without professor Flitwick noticing.

"Five points to Slytheri………what house are you again?"

"Gryffindor, sir." said Michael, his pail face flushing red with embarrassment and anger.

Professor Flitwick did a double take, as if he couldn't believe that those words could possibly exist. Then he looked at the floor, as if working something out before he stammered, "Yes, yes, that can't be ri- oh well." Shrugging he tried to ignore what had just happened and turned back to the class. "as Mr Llyoyd said, this is a less powerful and complex charm that I think you'll have come across before if you all revised for your OWL's. Now, everyone, wands out."

Everyone, including Hermione, who was looking a little put out at having someone else answer a question for a change, held their wands out in front of them. "Now, Mr Llyoyd, Miss Granger, I have some fruit on my desk, will you hand it out?" Michael wordlessly, stood up , walked to the desk, his back as stiff as a board and approached the wicker basket on the table, full of various fruit. Hermione made a point of standing next to him and whispering to him, "How did you know that?"

"I dunno, I think I read it somewhere." Said Michael vaguely, "Look, I'll carry the basket for you, you can pass out the fruit."

Hermione smiled at him, brushing some hair out of her face. Michael felt his ears and liver heating up, but tried to put it out of his mind as he followed her to the front row of desk as she passed out fruit. As Hermione and Ron approached the row where Harry and Ron were sitting, Ron hissed to Harry, "wand at the ready? Think he'll hex us?"

"Probably." Said Harry, distractedly. To be honest, the thought hadn't crossed his mind, but Ron's hatred of the boy allowed his own thoughts to slip away. Hermione took a blood orange out of the basket and gave it to Harry, who snatched it away angrily , narrowing his eyes at Michael, Michael's face barely flickered, except with a kind of resigned sadness mingled with anger. But even as Harry took another hurried glimpse at him, taking a pineapple from Hermione, he couldn't say for certain who the anger was aimed at. However, Hermione threw him a look of embarrassed frustration as she sat back down next to him, Michael returning the basket to Professor Flitwick's desk, then returning to his seat, taking a withered looking courgette with him.

"Everybody, just to remind us of what this charm is all about, everybody repeat after me, Multigei"

The class did so. Ron's blood orange started to vibrate, then began to split in two, like an amoeba. Then it exploded, covering him a red, pulpy orange juice. Harry and Hermione burst out laughing, as did Ron, after a few seconds. Harry tried the charm himself. His Pineapple started to separate into two, straining apart, but gave up half-way through the spell. Harry tried the charm again, but although the pineapple tried to separate, it didn't manage it.

"I didn't know you could get Siamese Pineapples Harry." Said Ron, sniggering to himself.

"I think you'll find they prefer to be called conjoined pineapples." Replied Hermione in a deadpan voice as Harry looked at his Pineapple quizzically. Then both Harry and Hermionie started to giggle insanely.

"I am not an animal!" said Hermione, laughing, "I am a………" Hermionie couldn't stop laughing and couldn't finish the sentence.

"Pineapple being!" finished off a voice from faraway. Harry and Ron barely noticed, but Hermione, wiping tears of joy from her eyes, looked up at Michael's lonely seat, where he was looking at them, smiling to himself, absent minded charming his courgette to copy itself for the sixth time. Hermione's giggles slowly began to stop. She looked at him, looking at them, longingly at them. She couldn't bear it. It didn't matter that he was Snape's son, it didn't matter that she didn't know him, it was that look. She'd seen it before on Harry's face, when looking at Ron's family and on Dumbledore's face when he saw his pupils laughing as if there was no more to fear in the world than Snape's wrath or another ill-planned scheme from the Ministry of magic. Hermione had to know more.

"Now we'll move on, even those who haven't quiet multiplied their fruit yet." Said Flitwick, looking at Ron's exploded orange. It was at this moment that Harry's pineapple finally struggled, like a rat in a pair of tights, and with a little musical tinkle and a burst of smoke, made six identical copies of itself.

"I am the master!" said Harry.

"Show off." Hermione joked.

"You only don't like my style." Harry joked back.

"Tell me when you get some." Replied Hermione in the same tone.

"………..Now we move on to animate objects" said professor Fltwick, "or to be more precise, rats. Now, if you can split yourself" Flitwick laughed at his own joke, "Into pairs, or I'll simply use this charm on you to do so, and get your rat we can get started."

"Herm, I'm sure we can work in a three………" started Ron.

"No, Mr Snape need's a partner, "spat Harry, "Look, I'll go, save you two the trouble………."

"It's okay, both of you, I'll work with him." Said Hermione coolly.

"No way Herm, he's a………"

"Ron, I can deal with it. Don't go on, I want to know what's going on." She was about to walk off when Harry out his hand on her shoulder. "Look, if he does anything you don't like……….."

"Harry, he won't. " she said, looking Harry in the eye, "No body would think to do anything like that to me."

"I didn't mean it like that. Snape's are all into the pureblood thing. If he gives you any shit over that, he won't live long enough to regret it."

"Thank's Harry." She answered as best as she could, before she walked over to where Michael was looking around hopelessly.

"Aren't you working with Harry and Ron today?" he asked emotionlessly.

"You said you'd tell me what happened."

"So is this what it's all about?" he asked.

"Partly. I'd also like to know about you, where you came from, your mother, all that sort of thing."

Thanks for reading this – I do appreciate it. If you want to review, so I have some feedback on it, it would be greatly appreciated.

Lots of love

Xandra the blue.


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